


electing strange perfections

by scrunchyharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Chaptered, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Eventual Smut, First Love, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Flower Child Harry, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Love at First Sight, M/M, Pool Sex, Rich Louis, Summer Love, gardener!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:45:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 84,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2760065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrunchyharry/pseuds/scrunchyharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back for the summer from university, 19-year-old Louis is faced with a massive problem: their new gardener is quite possibly the most gorgeous man he's ever met. Over the course of the summer, Louis and a 25-year-old Harry will learn that love can be found where you least expect it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my baby, quite literally. I've been working on this for nine months, on two continents and across four countries. It's been written on a train going through Doncaster and in an Edinburgh hotel room, on a bus meandering through the Scottish Highlands and in the Dublin airport, in a cramped Parisian hotel room and in my dull, Canadian basement. It's the longest thing I've ever written. 
> 
> It all started when Harry looked like a farmer during the press conference in South America in April and it just sort of went from there. It was supposed to be a one shot, but 86,000 words later, I admitted defeat and split it in chapters.
> 
> It's already finished and I will be posting one chapter every week for the next ten weeks. It's rated as Explicit even though the first few chapters aren't. We'll get there, eventually. I know I'm 37 years late to the flower child party, but bear with me.
> 
> The title is from "Someone New" by Hozier.

Louis’ life is boring. He knows he shouldn’t say something like this because being bored and rich makes him a walking, talking stereotype, but the fact of the matter is that the most exciting thing that has happened to him in the past month is when he found twenty quid in a pair of chinos he hadn’t worn since the previous summer. So, yes, he’s got a boring life. Just because his boring life happens to be gilded, it doesn’t mean that it’s any less boring. Being bored in expensive furniture is still being bored.

Such are his musings as he sips on his morning orange juice in the tasteful Victorian conservatory that runs the length of the manor. That description alone makes him feel like a proper wanker, to be honest, but that’s how his mother usually describes it: Victorian because it’s made of wrought iron, he imagines? and tasteful was a word used by a minister’s wife when they came over for dinner-cum-arse-kissing the year before. How a Victorian monstrosity of wrought iron and glass can be considered ‘tasteful’ when it’s been affixed to a Georgian manor he isn’t quite sure, but then again, he’s no architect. What does he know?

Listlessly looking out of the glass panes to the seemingly endless stretch of their backyard, he sighs and wonders just how far boredom can stretch his mind before it snaps and makes him do something like Jack Nicholson’s character in _The Shining_. He can’t remember having ever been this bored before he went off the university, but the bustle of his life in the past year, as well as the freedom of being away from home as an adult rather than as a kid in boarding school, has made coming back here seem like a death sentence. As happy as he was to spend time with his sisters and mother, he had forgotten to take into account the fact that their lives had continued while he was away and that he did not quite fit as well as before in them, and so he finds himself spending most of his days alone, roaming the halls and sighing like some sort of depressive Casper the Friendly Ghost. 

Louis stretches and then reclines back on his chaise longue, yawning and wondering if it would be inappropriate to have a nap before lunch. He decides that he’d rather not give his stepfather one more reason to yell at him and then sighs again, because why the hell not. It’s not like he has anything better to do. How did people do it in the olden days? No, but really: how did people live in complete idleness before the Internet and television? He has both and he still feels like he’s going stir-crazy; he can feel the strands of his sanity coming loose and it’s not even July, yet. For fuck’s sake, he’s been back for a week.

Movement in the backyard catches his eye and he sits up, squinting against the sun to try and see what’s going on. Two people are walking across the lawn, one of them taller and leaner than the other. From the gait of the shorter one, Louis can see that it’s his stepfather: he walks with short, nervous strides, his back ramrod straight and his head held high like some sort of balding peacock. Everything about his stepfather’s walk screams ‘overcompensating’. Scratch that: everything about him in general screams it and if Louis’ mother is to be believed, he really does have something to overcompensate for. The other figure Louis doesn’t know. The person walks with a slight slump, like they’re trying to look smaller than they actually are. Their steps are languid, for lack of a better word; everything about them seems relaxed and pleasant. 

Louis rolls his eyes with a groan. Here he goes, applying physiognomy like he walked out of a 19th century novel. He’s hopeless. The person, whoever they were, is probably the new gardener. The previous one had been fired the week before when Daisy found him smoking a joint in the shed and his mother had been adamant that they find a new one before long. House staff gossip might be the only thing keeping Louis safe and that realization makes him cringe.

As they come closer to the conservatory, Louis can make out more details about the stranger: for one, it’s a man, with large shoulders stretching the fabric of his red and black plaid shirt. A wide-brimmed hat is perched on a mane of brown curls, which peek and curl out from underneath it. Louis can only see his back and the way his hands are clasped behind it as he follows Louis’ stepfather around the yard, nodding along to whatever the man says. Louis shifts to sit on the edge of the chair to try and get a better look, only to scramble back in a hurry when he realises they are coming his way. 

Opening the book he finds on an end table nearby, Louis makes sure to look enraptured by his reading before his stepfather slides open the door and walks in, the stranger on his heels. It takes all of Louis’ will not to peek over the top of the book. He needs to look calm and composed, not like a silly little boy in search of a thrill.

“… there isn’t much to do in the conservatory except keep the plants alive,” his stepfather drones, walking them around the area without glancing once at the plants. 

“It will be done, sir,” the stranger replies in a deep, slow voice.

Louis looks up at the sound of it. He’s only human, after all, and a voice like that, one that shoots straight through him to make him shiver with something fierce and, quite frankly, unknown, deserves to be paid attention to. What he sees is a tall man who looks to be in his mid-twenties. The curls he saw at the back of his head frame his face and soften his features, the best of which are wide green eyes and plump lips. The sight of those lips makes Louis’ breath hitch and he goes back to his book before he gets noticed.

“Louis,” his stepfather’s voice snaps, making him look up again even if it’s the last thing he wants. “This is Henry, he’ll be our new gardener.” Louis forces a smile and waves. “Come, Henry, I’ll show you the shrubberies out front.”

In a few stiff steps, Louis’ stepfather is already at the kitchen door, but the gardener lingers back, still smiling at Louis pleasantly. “I’m Harry, actually. I’ve already told him, like, five times.”

Louis lifts an eyebrow almost disdainfully, mentally kicking himself for it because the worse thing that could happen in that moment, when there’s six feet of literal sunshine smiling at him, is for his aloof defence mechanism to kick in.

“Hi, Harry Actually.” 

No. He did not just say that. That did not just happen.

Harry chuckles and nods at the book in Louis’ hands. “My sister loved those books when she was younger.”

With an uncertain frown, Louis closes the book so he can look at the title. _The Secret of the Old Clock_. A Nancy Drew novel. The sexiest man Louis has ever seen just saw him reading one of the twins’ books. He blushes and reopens it, trying to feign indifference. If he’s going down, he’d rather go down in flames.

“It’s quite good. I think you’re awaited in the kitchen.”

“I’ll see you around, then. Have a nice day.” Harry lifts his hat in greeting and then leaves without another word.

As soon as the kitchen door is shut, Louis fishes his mobile out of his pocket and opens a text message to Perrie, typing furiously.

_MAYDAY THE NEW GARDENER IS FIT AND HE SAW ME READING ONE OF PHOEBE’S BOOKS PLEASE COME AND KILL ME!!!!!!!_

Perrie’s reply is almost instantaneous: _What kind of fit? Movie star fit or underwear model fit?_

 _DOES IT MATTER?????_ Louis pauses in his redaction to think about Perrie’s question. _Farmer fit. I can put you over my shoulder and carry you around fit._

_So, fireman fit but with a rugged look about him. Take pictures for me ;)_

Louis flings his mobile away with a grunt. He’s screwed.

\---

Just how screwed he is becomes apparent the next morning after he walks out of the shower in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and goes over to one of the windows to open it. He lets his eyes travel over the scenery, barely paying attention to what he is seeing, until he sees him. _Him_. Harry the Fit Gardener. Crouched by a flowerbed, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow and at least half of the buttons undone, all Louis can see is the top of his hat and the tanned skin of his forearms. Harry is close enough that Louis can see him from the second floor and he leans forward almost automatically, hands resting on the windowsill and head completely out, to look at him closer. 

His hands are dirty and there’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek, right underneath his cheekbone, and Louis has to admit that it does wonders to his bone structure. Why he’s noticing that while looking at the gardener he’ll never know, but he’s sure _Cosmopolitan_ is to blame. It usually is. Harry’s shoulders are wide and they stretch his shirt even more than they did the day before when all he was doing was walk around the property and the fabric of his shirt is light enough that Louis can see the way the muscles in his back shift when he lifts his hat to run a hand through his hair before putting it back on. Louis bites his lip and lets out a small whimper at the sight, leaning forward even more.

Which is when Harry chooses to look up, eyes falling immediately on Louis. He smiles, big and happy and obscenely beautiful, before waving. Louis pushes himself away from the window with a squawk of panic and shuts the window before closing the curtains and walking as far from it as he can, cheeks on fire. Harry saw him half naked and _staring_ , for fuck’s sake. 

Louis can never, ever be seen by him ever again.

\---

Life never works the way Louis would want it to, though. He’s managed to furtively navigate his house without being seen by Harry - which wasn’t all that hard, to be honest, considering that all he had to do was stay indoors. It worked well for him for a time and he could even scoff and tell his sisters that he wasn’t gay, thank you very much, whenever one of them brought up how fit the gardener is. The fact that he is, in fact, gay is irrelevant for the moment because it’s not like a) his family can know and b) he’d ever consider even approaching Harry, let alone touch him or, god forbid, shag him. Even if he’d probably be warm and smell like sweat and dirt and sun-kissed skin, and he could lift Louis in his arms effortlessly and take him up against a wall. Even he if could do that, he never would, and that’s the thing Louis needs to remember, grimy modern day Aragorn fantasies aside.

“What is it with wanting to sleep with dirty men?” he asks Perrie, sipping on his glass of lemonade spiked with his stepfather’s expensive vodka. He lowers his magazine to look at her.

Sitting by the pool is a very dangerous decision, he knows that, but Perrie insisted that she absolutely needed to see the Fit Gardener and Louis did not have a better excuse than ‘but he’d know I exist’, which. No. It wouldn’t have worked. Not with Perrie. He, at least, kept his clothes on, unlike his best friend who decided that a bikini was appropriate. Well, it is, but. _Whatever_.

“I don’t know, babe,” she replies lazily, readjusting her black straw hat and flipping a page of last month’s _Cosmo_. “It’s probably a primeval instinct? Like, it’s bloody attractive to see a man who looks like he could kill dinner with his own hands? And it’s like, you know he would give you strong offspring.”

“My instincts don’t give a shit about finding a strong seed.”

“No, in your case it’s because you’re a nelly bottom.” She lowers her sunglasses to look at Louis over them. “So, you’ve been daydreaming about shagging your gardener?”

Louis rolls his eyes and pushes up his sunglasses with his knuckle. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not? There’s no shame in that.”

“He could hear us,” Louis replies, trying (and most probably failing) to sound composed. He glances around nervously.

“It wouldn’t be that bad, you know. It might—” She stops talking and a smirk appears on her face. “Well, well, well, look who’s coming.”

Louis’ head snaps up and he bites his lip when he sees Harry walking closer to the pool, carrying a small tree. He does not seem to notice them as he drops it on the ground and stands back up, his back to them. He wipes his brow and just as Louis is beginning to wonder if he might get out alive from this moment, Harry takes his shirt off and uses it to wipe the sweat from his face before throwing it over his shoulder. Perrie puts a hand over her mouth to muffle her giggles and Louis can guess why she’s uncontrollably laughing: he doesn’t know if he’s breathing anymore, but he knows that he’s beyond staring at Harry and well into ogling territory.

Harry’s shoulders are even more impressive naked and Louis never knew he had a thing for shoulders, but he can’t stop looking at them and at the way they taper down into a smaller waist and what looks an awful lot like _love handles_ right above the waistband of his jeans, and Louis can’t breathe. 

“Hey! You!” Perrie calls, cupping her hands around her mouth so her voice will carry. Harry turns around and looks uncertainly in their direction, his frown visible despite the distance. Louis isn’t quick enough to stop Perrie from motioning Harry closer. “Come here!” He does, to Louis’ dismay, and his smile grows as he gets nearer. “Hi, I’m Perrie,” she says once Harry is close enough.

“I’m Harry, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Hello, Louis,” he replies in that deep, devastating voice. “How can I help you?”

Perrie turns to Louis and lifts her eyebrows, her face hidden from Harry’s view by the brim of her hat, and Louis tears his eyes away from Harry’s tattoos, filing away the need to have a proper breakdown about that later, to look at his face. His gorgeous, gorgeous face.

“We, hum...” Looking around wildly, Louis’ eyes fall on the pitcher of lemonade. “Lemonade!”

Louis had meant it to be a question, honestly. It was supposed to come out as an offer to Harry for a glass of lemonade, but then his eyes slipped back to Harry’s chest and he did the mistake to glance down and there were branches of laurels tattooed on his hipbones and before he knew it, the interrogative sentence turned into an exclamative one and he ended up looking like a lunatic who shouts the name of things he can see.

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitches into a small smile. “Lemonade?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Perrie sits up straighter in her chair and picks up her empty glass, filling it and handing it to Harry. “I think he meant to offer you a glass.”

“Oh!” Harry smiles in earnest and nods, taking it and gulping down almost half of it in one go and then grimacing. “Thank you. Is it spiked?”

“Vodka.” Perrie winks.

“Good, I needed it. It’s a hot one today, isn’t it?”

“You tell me,” Perrie replies. “But it must be even worse for you, babe, working in the sun like that. Do you want another glass?”

“If it’s not a bother.”

“Absolutely not.”

Louis watches them be charming with each other, still not quite able to make his lungs work normally. At least he’s not gaping, which is honestly surprising. Harry gulps down another glass as quickly as the previous one, his throat working quickly and Louis licks his lips and stifles a whine in his own glass of lemonade. On which he chokes, naturally.  
“Hey, easy there. Don’t die, I wouldn’t know how to arrange funeral wreaths and I might lose my job,” Harry says, and through the tears filling his eyes as he coughs, Louis sees him move closer.

“I’ve got it,” Perrie says quickly, coming over to check on Louis. 

“I’m fine!” He pushes her away and wipes his eyes before clearing his throat. “It’s nothing.”

“I should get back to work.” Harry gives his glass back to Perrie and then shifts his eyes to Louis. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Louis snaps, feeling himself redden under Harry’s attention. “You can go.”

Harry nods, looking slightly dejected. “Have a nice day, Louis. Perrie.” He lifts his hat at her in greeting and then walks away, going back to his tree and leaving Louis to his own misery.

“You weren’t lying,” Perrie whispers once he’s out of earshot. “Charming, polite, sexy, and with hands like those, you just know he’s hung like a horse.”

“Perrie!” Louis squawks, throwing his magazine at her before getting up and taking the pitcher with him. “I’m going back to my room to die of mortification. You do whatever the hell you want, you—you vile quisling.”

With that, he stalks off towards the house and to his room, slamming the door shut. He throws himself down on it face first, letting out a groan. He’s never leaving his bedroom again, not until all the leaves have fallen and fit gardeners don’t have work anymore. Maybe then it’d be safe, but he might stay in anyway. The world has nothing to offer him, not when he can’t even manage one simple conversation with someone he finds attractive.

“I’m going to die an old maid,” he moans when he hears the door open and close. “And then get eaten by my twenty cats.” Turning his head, he gives Perrie a pitiful pout. “Can I move into your house for the summer?”

She waits until she’s gone to fetch a light cover-up from her bag before answering. “No, you can’t. You know my mother dislikes you.” She sits on the edge of Louis’ bed and strokes his back. “I promise it’s not as bad as you think it is. I’m sure he finds you charming.”

Louis lifts his head to look flatly at Perrie. “Right. Obviously. That’s exactly what he thinks.”

She rolls her eyes. “At least you can be sure that he’s gay. He did not even seem to notice I’m wearing a bikini. I was almost insulted, to be honest.” Perrie pinches his hip and Louis scoots away with a groan. “Stop being such a drama queen, babe. Everything’s going to be fine, don’t worry.”

Rolling to lie on his back, Louis sighs. “I don’t even know why I care so much what he thinks. It’s not like he matters. He’s only the gardener.”

“You’re right,” she says, kicking off her sandals to lie next to Louis. “He’s only the gardener.”

Something in her tone tells Louis that she’s not convinced. He isn’t either, to be entirely honest, and that’s terribly worrying.

\---

It’s been five days since Louis nearly died in front of Harry and he’s been avoiding him ever since. He keeps inside the house, away from windows, and he makes sure to try and be forgotten by him. He can’t ever be seen again, not after how much of a fool he made of himself. He will never live down the burning shame of having been caught being so vulnerable by the man he fancies. Never, ever, ever. For the first time in his life, he wishes for rain.

Staying indoors also means he’s kept away from his sisters, who spend most of their time playing in the yard. He can’t afford to join them, so he keeps to his room and marathons television series on his laptop, feeling more and more like a slug as the days go by. Days of inactivity have messed up his sleeping rhythm, making him groggy on good days. The worst part is that no one seeks him out, no one comes up to ask if he’s alright. His sisters have their own lives and his mother is busy putting together ten charities at once while being 7 months pregnant. The last thing on her mind is her sulking son and his mood swings. If they don’t want to see him, well, he doesn’t want to see them either. So there.

This complete isolation explains why Louis nearly jumps out of his skin when there’s a knock on his door.

“Come in!” he calls, pausing his episode of _Skins_ as Phoebe walks in.

“Daddy wants to talk to you in his office,” she says before running out, calling Daisy’s name down the hall.

With a long-suffering sigh and a feeling like someone poured lead in his stomach, Louis gets out of bed and slips into a pair of chinos and a mismatched shirt before heading downstairs. He can’t even be bothered to come and get Louis himself, he has to send his daughter. That tells a lot about how much he values Louis.

Louis knocks on the opened door, peering inside and walking in when his stepfather motions him in and raises one finger to tell Louis he’ll be with him in a moment. Louis slumps in one of the leather chairs facing the large mahogany desk, looking around as he waits and tries to pretend he’s not eavesdropping on the conversation. Not that it’s interesting; it sounds like he’s berating one of his employees. There’s a framed family photo on the desk and Louis picks it up, frowning as he looks at it. He’s not on it, but that’s not entirely surprising. Judging by the ages of his sisters, it was taken in the past year, while he was away at university. He puts it back down when he catches his stepfather’s disapproving stare.

At last, he hangs up and turns his attention to Louis, looking at him above his glasses like some sort of James Bond villain. Louis sits up a little straighter.

“You wanted to see me?” Louis asks.

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your education,” his stepfather replies, rummaging through the papers covering his desk before taking one sheet and looking it over. “You’re still registered in English literature.”

Louis shrugs. “Yeah, I am. That’s what I want to study.” Lie. It’s a blatant lie, but the truth would be even worse. At least, the study of literature draws a sort of respect in terms of tradition or whatever, but if Louis told him what he really wants to study is _theatre_ , he might as well pack his things and go live on the streets.

“I thought we had a deal, Louis. I let you study literature because it was too late to transfer once I found out, but we’d agreed that you would attend law school at the end of your first year.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to become a lawyer. I never agreed to that deal, I just walked out of the room.” With a slam of the door, if Louis remembers well.

“I hope you realise I will not be supporting you financially beyond your graduation? How do you expect to thrive with an English degree? No, Law is the best option, I will call them and see that your file is sent to the right people to start the transfer process. You might have to go to a few interviews, but nothing too stressful. You have the grades and the academic background to easily get into the program and if not, there are ropes I can pull. It’s only three years, too, so it’ll only set you back one year. Nothing too dramatic, you’ll concede.”

“I don’t want to. You can’t force me,” Louis replies, gripping the armrests of the chair tightly. “You can’t control every aspect of my life.”

His stepfather raises an eyebrow. “Alright, then find a job. Support yourself. Once you’re independent, you can choose what you study. In the meantime, you will do as I say. I’m only trying to give you a good future.”

“No, you’re not,” Louis snaps, rolling his eyes. “You’re trying to preserve your precious reputation. You can’t have your name associated with someone working a lowly, mediocre middle-class job.”

“This isn’t what it’s about, do not twist my words,” he says calmly, which only infuriates Louis more. He never raises his voice, no matter how heated the argument gets. In comparison, Louis’ short temper makes him appear childish and immature and isn’t that exactly what the wanker wants?

“It’s about controlling my life, just like you control Mum’s. We’re not your bloody employees,” Louis lets out, trying to keep his voice even, involuntarily slipping into his natural, Yorkshire accent, the one his stepfather hates so much. Well, fuck him on that front, too. He can’t be angry and sound posh at the same time; it doesn’t work.

“Watch your language, son.” Meaning: you sound vulgar, please go back to the accent I allow you to have.

“I’m not your son,” Louis spits viciously, narrowing his eyes. “We both know that.”

The man’s entire face twitches, but he remains calm. “Be it as it may, I still control you for as long as you live under my roof and waste my money.” Leaning forward, he stares at Louis, eyes boring into him. “You will go to law school. It isn’t up for discussion.”

Louis lets out a chuckle. “I won’t, though. You can’t force me to go to school.”

“If you decide to sabotage yourself by failing your classes on purpose, don’t bother coming back here. You’re getting A’s, or you’re on the streets, is that clear?” he asks, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I have given you the best education money could buy from the beginning, you will not ruin it with your pathetic rebellion. You’re almost 20 years old, it’s about time you start acting like it.”

“Mum would be upset if you kicked me out. She might even leave you.”

His stepfather laughs, smirking. “Your mother wouldn’t leave me. Do you think I’m not aware she stays for the sake of her children? She wouldn’t endanger her daughters even if it were to defend her son. You’re not the centre of her universe, Louis. Grow up.”

“I’m not going to law school,” Louis repeats, his knuckles turning white under the strain he’s putting on them. He will not give him the satisfaction of losing his temper. Not this time.

“Then pack your things.”

They stare into each other’s eyes and time comes to a halt. Louis’ heart is hammering in his chest and his eyes prickle with unshed tears, but he will not flinch. The alternative is dire: law school will most definitely kill him. He can’t do it, he won’t do it, he can’t make him to do it.

“I’m serious,” he continues. “You won’t be missed.” The man’s eyes flick down to the picture Louis was holding earlier and something inside of Louis breaks.

Getting up without a word, Louis storms out of the room and slams the door as hard as he can on his way out, feeling a spark of satisfaction make its way through the several layers of anger, resentment and emotions he doesn’t even have a name for when he hears something shatter inside. He runs out of the house and stalks across the lawn, hands fisted by his sides and eyes burning with the tears he’s holding back. He only stops once he finds a stone bench in a secluded part of the garden, hidden from the house by a tree carrying heavily-scented flowers. Louis sits down on it and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands.

He breathes hard against the knot in his throat, but despite his best efforts he feels tears rolling down his cheeks. He wipes them angrily then runs his hands down his face, hating himself for letting the—the wanker get to him like that every single time. _He doesn’t matter_ , he repeats to himself. _He doesn’t matter, he doesn’t matter._

Louis laughs bitterly. Of course he matters. No one matters more than him because without him, Louis is nothing. His university education, the roof over his head, every single thing he owns, he owes it to that arsehole. And oh, how he makes sure Louis never forgets it.

His head jerks up at the sound of leaves rustling. He wipes his eyes again and rearranges his hair just in time to see Harry come into view. Louis tenses and jumps to his feet, his cheeks reddening. He doesn’t have his hat, today, probably because the sky is overcast, so his curls fly freely around his head, a tangled mess that makes Louis ache to run his fingers through them.

“I’m sorry, am I in your way? I’ll—I’ll go, I didn’t mean to—”

Harry raises a hand to silence him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “S’your backyard. I’m the one who’s in the way. I just...” He brings his other hand from behind his back and Louis sees that he’s holding a pink rose. “I heard you crying and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Taking a plastic bag from his pocket, he holds it out. “I also brought biscuits. Mind if I sit with you?”

Louis swallows and looks at Harry without saying a word for a bit too long. It’s becoming awkward. He clears his throat and nods, sitting down and watching Harry do the same. He opens the bag and offers it to Louis. Normally, he’d be grossed out to see hands as dirty as Harry’s handing him food, but. It’s _Harry_ , who smells like wet dirt and sweat and like what the colour green would smell, fresh and like foliage or cut grass.

Louis realises he’s staring a second too late and he ducks his head.

“I made them last night,” Harry says, still holding out the biscuit.

Louis grabs one and takes a tentative bite, preparing himself to lie if it tastes awful. His eyes widen as a rich taste of chocolate floods his mouth. He looks at the biscuit in bewilderment and then at Harry, who winks.

“It’s really good,” Louis tells him, shoving what’s left of the biscuit in his mouth and wiping the crumbs from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Thanks. Oh, and this was for you.”

Harry gives Louis the rose and he takes it, bringing it up to his nose to smell it with a glance at Harry. Louis flushes even more when their eyes meet. He looks away, biting his lip.

“Thank you,” Louis says in a small voice, smelling the rose again.

“My pleasure. Beautiful eyes like yours shouldn’t be crying.”

“Oh, god,” Louis chokes out, putting a hand over his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Harry anymore and can pretend that it’s not happening. It cannot be happening.

“Too much?” Harry asks with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, that was completely out of line.”

“No! I mean, yes, it was too much, but no, it’s not...” Louis sighs and shakes his head, shoving another biscuit in his mouth so he does not make a fool of himself even more.

Harry takes a biscuit, too, nibbling it in silence for a moment before turning to Louis. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing. I’m no one, you can tell me.” Louis frowns at Harry’s words, which only makes him smile. “I’m only the gardener. Between telling me and the garden gnomes your sisters forced me to place on the front yard, there’s no difference.”

Louis sighs and shakes his head. “My stepfather is a wanker.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, please.”

The ghost of a smile appears on Louis’ face. “He wants me to become a lawyer and I really don’t want to.”

“Naturally,” Harry replies, nodding seriously and handing Louis another biscuit. “So don’t become a lawyer.”

Louis lets out a bitter chuckle. “If I don’t become a lawyer, I’m homeless.”

“Ah, I can see how this is a problem.”

“Right.” Louis stands up and starts pacing back and forth, wringing his hands, mostly thinking out loud. “So I told myself, ‘just get a job, Tommo, and you can move out and be free from him’, which might actually work, you know?”

Harry nods again. “That’s what I did. It works.”

“Yes, but even then, he still owns me. He pays for my university.”

“You could still—”

Louis cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “He sends me to Oxford. Assuming I miraculously get loans for the tuition, there’s still my flat to pay and believe me, it’s not the kind of flat you can afford on minimum wage.”

Harry whistles, eyebrows raised. “Right.”

With a sigh, Louis sits back down and takes the last biscuit. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this. You must think I’m a daft, rich brat who complains about the silliest things.”

“I don’t,” Harry replies without hesitating and Louis flusters. “I think you’re stuck in a fucked up situation, it’s like... damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

Louis nods and looks down, staring at the way he’s nervously scratching the skin around the nail of his thumb with his index. The knot in his throat is coming back and he bites his lip, willing himself not to cry. “It just really sucks,” he says in a small voice.

“It does.” Harry strokes his back and Louis congratulates himself for not jumping out of his skin when he first feels Harry’s hand on him.

They sit in silence for a moment, Harry’s hand wide and warm on Louis’ back, and he can feel himself slowly calming down, can feel the way his anxiety is receding, like a tide. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and turns to Harry, who gives him a smile.

"I just want to do something I love, you know? But he says that what I like is useless."

"What would that be? Wait, let me guess." Harry bites his lip as he thinks and Louis has to look away because, well. Harry's lips are a big problem in his life. “Creative writing? No, no, I’ve got it. It’s drama, isn’t it?”

Louis has to bite back a smile, finding himself looking at Harry with amazement and incapacitating infatuation. “Drama, yes. I’m studying English, right now, but I’d like to be a drama teacher. With little kids, maybe? I like kids.” He frowns, realising with horror that all they do is talk about him. “What about you? You like, hum...” He sniffs the rose. “Flowers?”

“I love children, too. I volunteer at a children’s hospital from time to time. I play with the kids, read them stories, stuff like that.” Harry scratches his cheek, smearing dirt on it. Louis’ fingers twitch to clean it off. “I never liked school so I knew I didn’t want to go to college and I was good at gardening, so it just sort of happened.”

“So you work and do volunteer work?” Louis sighs, crestfallen. “You must think I’m useless.”

“The thought didn’t even cross my mind. And if you’d seen my flat, you wouldn’t want to spend too much time there either.”

“It must be cosier than this big, daft house,” he comments, smelling the rose once again.

“If by ‘cosy’ you mean ‘inhabited by a smelly, messy Irishman’ then yes, it’s quite cosy. I’m glad you like the flower,” Harry says, running a hand through his hair.

“I do. It’s gorgeous.” He gives Harry a lopsided smile before biting his lip, getting increasingly nervous as silence stretches between them. He needs to find something to say and quick before it becomes too awkward and Harry leaves. “So, hum, do you like working here?” he asks, letting out the first thing that comes through his mind. 

Harry turns to look at him, a soft smile on his face, and Louis finds it hard to breathe. “It’s alright. The pay’s decent and they leave me alone. This other house I used to work at, they spent the day with me hovering over me to make sure I did stuff right.”

Louis frowns, feeling guilty all of a sudden. “Do you need more money? I could ask for you, without saying it’s from you. It can’t be healthy to work hard like you do.”

Harry shakes his head, frowning, too. “No, I’m alright. It’s tiring, but it’s only for the summer, Come October, no one will need me.”

“I’ll ask. You work all day in the sun, you deserve more.”

Shaking his head again, Harry sits up straighter, his face becoming hard. “No, don’t ask. Eight pounds an hour is more than the minimum wage, I can’t complain.”

It hits Louis how out of touch he is with reality when he’s floored to hear what the minimum wage is. He’d never stop to think about it, never had any use for it, really, but now that he hears it, it sounds absurd.

“You can live on that?”

With a chuckle, Harry shrugs. “The government says I can, but it’s...” He gazes at the manor for a moment before turning a smiling face to Louis. “You’ve got to love ramen noodles.”

Louis lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re funny.”

“Yeah? Never heard that one before. Usually, it’s ‘ugh, please stop talking’ whenever I try to be funny,” Harry replies, winking.

Louis feels his cheeks colour and he gets up rapidly. “Well, thank you for spending time with me. And for the flower.”

“Are you feeling better? I’d feel terrible if I let you go back in there when you’re sad.”

“Right now, I’m okay. I’ll go spend a few hours in my room pretending to be dead so the wanker forgets I exist.” Louis finds himself sniffing the flower once more, pressing his lips tightly together against a smile.

“Okay.” Harry pulls on his own shirt, straightening it and smoothing it down before he looks at Louis again, his eyes softer than before. “I’m glad you like the flower. My ex, he’d complain whenever I brought flowers home. Said it made the flat smell like his nan’s.”

 _He_. His ex, masculine pronoun. Harry’s gay, or at least bi. Louis inhales sharply, feeling himself blushing. He looks down at the flower, trying not to let it show that by indirectly telling him that he’s gay, Harry’s just made his entire bloody year.

“Is that why you’re no longer together? The flowers, I mean,” Louis asks timidly, unsure whether he’s overstepping boundaries or not.

“No, not at all. Well, the flowers didn’t help, but it was the cheating that did it for me.”

 _Shit_. Nice topic of conversation, Tomlinson. Good job. 

He hands Harry the rose. “I think you need it more than me.”

“No, you keep it. It was a while ago, I’m over it. I wasn’t in love with him, don’t worry about me.”

“If you say so.” He stays silent for a moment, looking around and trying to pull his thoughts together into a coherent sentence. “Cheating is terrible. Is it weird that I’m angry at him even if I’ve never met him?”

“Thank you, it’s nice of you to say that.” Harry sighs and scuffs the tip of his boot against the dirt. “What about you? Any disastrous stories about ex-girlfriends to rival mine? Don’t let me have this pity party alone.”

Louis snorts, his eyes widening when he realises what he just did. He looks down. “No girls, no. I don’t—I’m like you.” He frowns, upset and angry that he can’t get himself to say the word out loud.

All Harry does is nod, what Louis thinks is the hint of a smile on his face. “Thanks for telling me. It means a lot to me that you trust me enough to tell me.” Harry sounds touched by Louis’ confession, which makes him feel strangely emotional. 

It’s not that Louis completely closeted, either; his closest friends know and he’s about to tell his mother and sisters. It’s part of his plans for the summer, he just needs to find the courage to tell them. He isn’t sure why Harry’s reaction to the confession hits him so hard. Maybe it’s because when he told Zayn and Perrie, they seemed unfazed by a confession that was earth-shattering for Louis. Their reactions were underwhelming, if he’s honest. At the time, he wished they’d acknowledged how big it was for Louis to confess that. 

“Okay,” is all he manages to reply, a knot forming in his throat. “I’ll go, now.”

“No, no, you stay, I’ll go back to work.” 

Harry pulls Louis into a hug before he can brace himself for it and he lets out a gasp of surprise, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and pressing his cheek against his chest, breathing in his smell and feeling his knees weaken. Harry holds him tightly and strokes up and down his back, his cheek against the top of Louis’ head, and Louis thinks with a sigh that he could die in that very moment and be happy with the life he’s led. 

Letting go of Louis, Harry lets his hands run down his arms before he smiles. “Have a nice day, Louis.”

Louis nods and forces a smile. “Thank you. You, too.”

With a smile and a wink, Harry gathers the empty bag and puts it back in his pocket before standing up. “Don’t forget to put the rose in water. Warm water.”

Louis barely manages to keep his dreamy sigh in until Harry is out of earshot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big, huge thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos! You guys are the best.

Louis wakes up to find a large bouquet of flowers on his desk. He’s never seen flowers like this - although this does not mean anything because botany and him make two; they’re a deep purple at the centre and become lighter towards the edges until they turn white and almost frilly. The bouquet has been carefully arranged in a tall glass vase and there’s a card resting against it. It is unsigned and only says ‘ _for Louis_ ’ in a handwriting he’s never seen before.

Hands on his hips, Louis stares at the bouquet, unsure of how to react. There is no one, and he really does mean _literally_ no one who might send him flowers, unless it was a joke. It’s probably a joke, he decides, picking up the card to look closely at the handwriting. It’s neither Zayn’s nor Perrie’s, that’s for sure. Liam from country club, maybe? No, that’s nonsense. He’s only ever said four words to Louis: ‘Pass the salt, please.’

He leans forward to smell the bouquet and startles at the scent of mint. Smelling again, he frowns when he realises he wasn’t wrong. They really smell of mint. Louis shakes his head and fetches his mobile, going back to stand in front of the flowers, staring them down with his most intimidating glare, as he waits for Perrie to pick up.

“Ever heard of purple flowers that smell like mint?” he asks as soon as she picks up.

_“Good morning to you, too. Flowers that smell like mint? Why’d you want to know?”_

“Because there’s a bouquet of them on my desk.” Louis moves his mobile away from his ear with a wince when Perrie lets out a piercing shriek. “That was wholly unnecessary.”

_“You’ve got a secret admirer, babe! I can’t believe it! Send me a picture, I want to see them!”_

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Louis snaps a picture and sends it to Perrie, groaning when he hears her cooing. “Don’t.”

_“They’re gorgeous! Was there a card? What did it say? This is so exciting!”_

“There was one, yeah.” Louis picks it up again, stroking the blue ink with his thumb - it’s uneven and pale, like someone used a cheap, almost empty ballpoint pen - and frowning as he hears a muffled conversation coming from Perrie’s end. “All it says is ‘for Louis’ and I don’t recognize the handwriting.”

 _“My mother thinks they might be gloxinias. You should go ask your gardener, he would know.”_ Louis can hear the smirk in her voice and he sighs.

“Not a chance.” Perrie doesn’t know they talked the day before because this event is filed under ‘Things Perrie Can Never Know’. It’s for Louis’ own mental health.

_“Do what you want, but don’t complain to me if you end up dying alone.”_

Louis hangs up without another word and throws his mobile on his bed with a frustrated groan. The windows of his bedroom are opened and he can hear the lawnmower from a distance. He knows that if he looked out right now he would be able to see Harry and that’s why he turns his back to the windows.

A normal person would go out and ask the bloody gardener about the mystery flowers in his room. A normal person would also have a bloody clue who might have sent them, but Louis isn’t a normal person. Louis develops incapacitating crushes on house staff that force him to creep around his house so he is not accidentally seen. He’s—he’s Sybil Crawley, for fuck’s sake, except that he will never end up with his own modern version of the brazen Irish driver. 

Instead of asking Harry, he does the next best thing: question every member of the staff. He knows it wasn’t his mother or one of his sisters who brought them up; they’d have woken him up to find out who might have sent them. It had to be one of the staff. He spends the day at it, fruitlessly: the bouquet allegedly appeared in the kitchen and one of the maids brought it up, but no one has a clue who might have put it there. For all Louis knows, it’s from one of the maids. There is one who always smiles at him whenever they pass each other in the hallway. That’s terrible news.

He chooses to ignore them and puts the vase away in his closet. 

The next morning, a bouquet of lilacs stands in the place of the gloxinias. Another card, saying the exact same thing, rests against it. They join the gloxinias in the closet with a long-suffering sigh and a roll of Louis’ eyes. He does not even bother telling Perrie about them. From his bedside table, the rose Harry gave him seems to be silently judging him. He glares at it for good measure.

Yellow puffs. That’s what he finds on his desk on the third morning. Lilacs had been an easy one and now he almost resents his secret admirer for once again picking a flower he doesn’t know. They join the two other bouquets in his closet. Eventually, the maid will find them and realise her affections are not welcomed. He hopes it happens before they wither and make a mess. 

The same day, Louis talks to Harry again. It happens by accident, really: Louis is out of the house and trying to find a corner in the shade where he might be left alone to sulk for a few hours - the Law School Fight had a sequel - and his feet carry him towards Harry on their own. He is crouching by a row of shrubs, shirtless, his skin glistening with sweat under the relentless sun, and he looks up and beams at Louis when he sees him.

“Louis! Hi!” Harry stands up, readjusting his hat and pushing up his sunglasses with his knuckle before wiping his dirty hands on his jeans and offering one to Louis.

Not that Louis notices it, because it’s the first time he really pays attention to their height difference and it is making him dizzy. Harry isn’t only taller, but broader, making Louis feel minuscule and almost childlike next to him. And fuck, if it doesn’t turn him on that he has to look up at him. He would feel surrounded by Harry if he held him in his arms, safe and loved and—

He shakes his hand, timidly smiling up at him. “Hi, am I bothering you?”

“Not at all,” Harry replies in an earnest voice, smiling back and _shit_ , his smile is turning Louis’ brain to mush.

To keep some of his wits about him, Louis ducks his head, eyes falling on the birds tattooed below Harry’s collarbones and the butterfly in the centre of his chest. He swallows thickly and looks back up, only to find Harry still smiling at him. He shifts his gaze to the shrubs, noticing that they’re the same yellow puffs. He frowns.

“What are those, exactly?” he asks, pointing at the flowers.

“They’re mimosas.” Harry moves closer to the shrub, close enough that if Louis wasn’t rooted on the spot and shifted slightly to the right, their bare arms would brush.

He stays motionless.

“Mimosa? I thought it was a drink.”

Harry laughs. “It’s a flower, too. I love the scent, it’s very special.” Harry crouches again to smell one of the branches before looking up at Louis expectantly. Louis imitates him and leans in closer to breathe it in. He’s startled at the smell. “What do you think?”

“It smells like...” He sniffs again. “Like fabric softener.”

“And whipped butter, and...” Harry sniffs it again, his face inches away from Louis. “And honey. I love it,” he says, getting back up and offering his left hand to help Louis up.

Taking it, Louis notices the small cross tattooed between his thumb and forefinger and lets his eyes roam over the anchor covering the outside of Harry’s wrist and up his arm, where there is more to see than he has time to take in without risking being a creepy staring weirdo. The ship catches his eye, though, and he wishes he could spend time watching it closely to take in all of the details. Instead, he finds himself paying attention to how small his hand looks in Harry’s, which is not helping his case at all. He pulls it away and takes a few steps back, trying to make it look casual.

“You know a lot about flowers, then?” Louis asks to fill in the silence, feeling silly for basically stating the obvious.

“I know a few things, yeah. My mum taught me everything, I would always help her with our garden when I was younger.”

“Do you know anything about purple flowers that smell like mint?” Louis asks before he can talk himself out of it. It’s just a question, Harry doesn’t have to know the reason behind it, Louis is making a fuss over nothing. 

Harry lifts his eyebrows and nods quickly. “Gloxinias. They’re not flowers, you know. It’s an herb. I planted some over there,” he says, pointing over his shoulder. “I love them.”

“Did you also plant lilac?”

Harry smirks. “I didn’t have to, the trees were already there. All I had to do was trim them.”

Yes, definitely one of the maids who went and cut flowers straight out of their garden to give them to Louis. If his mother knew, she’d sack the poor girl.

“Oh, I see,” Louis says, shifting his weight between his feet. He casts his eyes around, trying to find something else to say. “What were you up to?”

Lifting his hat to run a hand through his hair before putting it back on his head, Harry smiles. “Trimming the shrubs. I’ve been at it all day. Your mother wants them to be perfectly round and it’s quite tricky to achieve.” He nods at a pile of branches on the ground, some of them carrying flowers. “It kind of breaks my heart to cut off the flowers, but I was given orders.”

Before he can think it through, Louis asks: “Can I help you with anything?”

“Absolutely. I need someone to tell me if I’m getting close to making them round. I keep having to go back and forth and my knees are killing me.”

“It mustn’t be easy being old,” Louis says, biting his lip as he waits to see if Harry will take it as a joke. He really hopes he will. He’d probably have to move out of the house if Harry didn’t.

“Hey, I’m only 25,” Harry says with a laugh.

Louis snorts. “ _Only_ 25.”

Harry rolls his eyes and shakes his head, adjusting his hat before crouching in front of one of the shrubs and picking up a pair of secateurs. “Whenever you’re ready to stop making fun of me, you’ll need to take a few steps back and tell me where I need to cut.”

Louis ends up spending the afternoon with Harry, helping him with the shrubs before following him around as he completes a few other tasks, holding his tools for him or running back inside to get them both tall glasses of (spiked) lemonade. Hours later, as he stands in front of his standing mirror, assessing the damages of having spent the day in the sun - freckles, thousands of freckles - he can’t hold back the dreamy sigh that escapes his lips when he thinks back to how easy the conversations with Harry had become after the initial awkwardness. 

Changing into his pyjamas after applying a thick layer of after-sun lotion, Louis climbs into bed and sighs again, smiling up at his ceiling. He feels like he can still hear Harry’s laugh as if he were right there and it doesn’t take him a lot of efforts to conjure up the memory of his smile and how warm it made Louis feel. He lets his mind drift and it only takes a few seconds before Harry’s half naked body fills it. 

He swallows dryly and runs his hand down his chest, his eyes fluttering shut as he imagines that it’s Harry’s large, callused one instead of his own. Slipping his hand inside his pants and wrapping it around his growing erection, Louis lets out a sigh and files away his guilt for later. The heady scent of the flowers hidden in his closet and the clean, fresh smell of cut grass drifting in from the open windows are almost overwhelming, the two of them permanently linked to Harry in his mind, and the images that go with them make him quicken and tighten his hand: Harry kissing him; Harry, laying him down on the ground and covering Louis’ body with his, slowly making love to him with the starry night sky blanketing them; Harry in his bed next to him, skin warm and golden against the white sheets, smiling before moving down to lie between Louis’ legs and take him in his mouth, his green eyes locked with his own; Harry naked and wanking, his muscular arm moving fast and Louis’ name on his lips when he comes; Harry—

Louis comes with a gasp and it takes about three seconds for his guilt and shame to catch up with him. He wipes his hand on his sheets and rolls around to hide his face in his pillow, groaning. He wanked to thoughts of an almost complete stranger having sex with him. A stranger who is six years older than he is and his _employee_. He’s a terrible person.

\---

Small blue flowers surrounded by what looks like a cloud of foliage are what Louis wakes up to the next day. That, and his stepfather’s foul mood greeting him when he enters the kitchen, refuelling their never-ending fight over Louis’ future before his breakfast has popped out of the toaster oven. Louis downs his cup of tea and stuffs his face with half-buttered toasts as he listens to his mother’s husband explain every way in which Louis is a failure, only shutting up when Louis walks out on in mid-sentence to escape to the backyard, tears stinging his eyes.

He has to congratulate himself for not crying in front of him. He will at least give himself that. He won’t let that man see that he’s getting to him, not if he can help it. Wiping at his eyes furiously, Louis wanders around the yard, not quite ready to admit that he’s searching for Harry. It’s not like he doesn’t know that he’s shit at school and has no ambition; he does. Acutely. There is nothing he knows better than that. He also knows that he’s nothing special, just one more ordinary guy with no future but the one his parents will buy him, never earning anything and having everything handed to him without having to work. He’s never known hunger or strife and yet he’s crying like some big baby because he’s being told the truth about his condition.

What does it say about him that the two father figures he’s ever had want nothing to do with him? His own father left before Louis could even walk and his substitute one despises him and always makes sure that Louis knows he’s not one of his own. He feels like an outsider in his own home and he can’t even be himself, can’t be honest with the ones he loves in fear that he will be thrown out, or worse disowned. And his mother does nothing, but he can’t blame her. She was dirt poor when Louis’ father abandoned them and he understands her for wanting to keep the security she founds with her husband. She has four other kids and two more on the way to think about, her useless older son who isn’t even there for more than half of the year matters very little. So what if he’s constantly fighting with her husband? He’ll be gone by October.

Angrily wiping at his eyes, Louis heads towards Harry when he sees him bent over a flowerbed, making sure to be noisy as he comes near so that Harry will notice him.

“Hey, you,” Harry says, squinting up at Louis with a smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Louis says dully, forcing a smile. “Planting flowers, today?”

“Yeah. They’re called love-in-a-mist,” Harry replies, holding up a pot and showing Louis small blue flowers surrounded by a cloud of foliage. He bites his lip and says nothing about the bouquet of them in his room. “I love the name, it’s so romantic. It makes me think of, like, _Wuthering Heights_.”

Louis smiles in earnest, this time, nodding. “Yeah, it sort of does. Kind of makes you want your own Heathcliff.”

Harry winces. “No, no, you don’t want Heathcliff. Edgar’s better.”

With a surprised laugh, Louis shakes his head. “You’d choose Edgar Linton over Heathcliff?”

“Huh, yeah,” Harry replies, rolling his eyes. “I’ll choose financial stability over a cruel and abusive man anytime.”

“You mean you’d settle for boredom and no passion?”

“Heathcliff is a terrible person, I don’t understand why you’re defending him!” Harry says with a laugh.

“I’m just saying, at least he made Catherine feel things.”

“Terrible things, yeah.”

“Better terrible things than nothing at all.”

Harry nods pensively before laughing again. “Let’s agree to disagree, yeah?” Harry goes back to his work with a final wink at Louis.

Watching him for a moment, Louis thinks back on what his stepfather says – rather than say, deal with all of the emotions having a literary argument with his gardener made him feel – about how he’s useless and can’t do anything for himself. Where he’d felt sadness and despair earlier, he’s now filled with a burning rage to prove him wrong and show that wanker that he can do things. Important things, unexpected things, like… like planting flowers.

“Can I help?” Louis asks. “I’ll be shit, but I could try?” When Harry looks up at him with a surprised smile, Louis blushes. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course, you can help.”

Louis watches Harry get up and he takes a step back so he’s not in his way. “I just hope I won’t kill them.” His words get caught in his throat when he sees that Harry has started unbuttoning his shirt and is taking it off, his skin tanned and smooth and _right there_.

“I really doubt you will.” Laying his shirt down on the ground, Harry kneels down once more. “You can kneel on my shirt so you don’t stain your trousers.”

Louis falls down on his knees gracelessly, keeping his eyes away from Harry. “I’ll stain your shirt.”

“Don’t worry, those are just my work clothes. They’re already ruined. So, the first thing you need is this,” he explains, holding up a small shovel. “It’s called a trowel. You’ll use it to dig a hole for the plant.”

Taking the tool in his hand, Louis studies it for a few seconds. “Okay, so I just… dig?” When Harry nods, Louis digs it in the ground, frowning to find it hard to break through. He pushes a bit more and takes out a couple of inches of dirt before smiling. “Done! What’s next?”

“It’s not deep enough, love,” Harry says, covering Louis’ hand with his own to guide him and making Louis’ heart skip a beat. “Move your hand like this, it’ll give you more strength. It’s pretty packed, it can be a bit hard.”

Harry is pressed up against his side, their shoulders touching as his large hand covers Louis’ over the trowel. He’s placed his other hand on Louis’ hip for balance as he leans forward to dig in the dirt and Louis is pretty sure that his brain has short-circuited as soon as Harry touched him and he’s now working on autopilot, letting Harry guide his movements. That’s not to mention his choice of words, talking about _depth_ and _hard_ and calling Louis _love_ while he’s shirtless and glowing in the sun. It’s not fair.

“I don’t think I’m any good,” Louis says weakly, letting go of the trowel when Harry releases him.

“You’re learning, it’s alright. The next step is to get the flower from the pot and put it in the hole,” Harry explains, picking up the pot he was showing Louis earlier without moving away, staying close to Louis, his hand still on his waist.

Heat radiates off him and his smell, the usual mix of foliage and sunshine, is almost overwhelming, making Louis’ head spin. He turns his head to smile at Harry, only to find his face mere inches from his. Louis breathes in sharply, eyes widening and flicking down to Harry’s lips as he blushes. It feels like time is standing still, Louis’ world narrowed down to Harry’s body so close to his and every point where they’re touching: Harry’s hand on his waist, his forearm across the small of his back, their shoulders pressed together. Louis would only need to lean in an inch or two and he’d be kissing Harry. He swallows thickly at the thought and licks his lips.

Harry’s eyes flick down rapidly before he seems to wake up and blinks, shaking his head. “The flower. I was saying it goes in the hole. Like this.”

He lets go of Louis and gives him the plant, explaining to him how to cup his hand to hold it and its roots properly, before he watches as Louis carefully places it in the hole.  
“I know the next part!” Louis says excitedly, too cheerful as he tries to sound casual. He covers the plant with dirt and presses down to level it with the rest of the flowerbed before wiping his hands on each other to shake off the dirt. “I did it!”

“Good job!” Harry says, sounding like a kindergarten teacher and frowning as soon as the words came out. “I mean, great, that’s awesome. I knew you could do it.” He pats Louis’ back and leaves his hand in place for a few seconds, making Louis shiver.

To keep himself busy and avoid doing something embarrassing under Harry’s attention, Louis takes out his mobile from his pocket and snaps a picture of the flower, sending it to his friends. “I don’t think anyone will believe that I gardened if I don’t send them a picture as proof.”

“Do you want a picture of you next to it?”

“No, no, I look awful right now. I’m covered in dirt, not to mention my puffy, red eyes.”

Harry shrugs. “You’re still cute. Do you want to plant another one?”

Louis blushes and feels like his insides have collapsed in on themselves, like in those videos of buildings being dynamited. Harry thinks he’s _cute_.

“You’re only saying that so I won’t cry again.” Getting up awkwardly and wiping his trousers, Louis hesitates. “I should get back in, I told the twins I’d teach them how to braid their hair. Thank you for… for being there.”

Harry gets up again, wiping his dirty hands on his slightly less dirty jeans. “Anytime. You know where to find me.” He seems to hesitate for a moment, placing his hand on Louis’ shoulder and staying motionless for a second before squeezing it comfortingly and dropping his hand.

“T-thanks,” Louis stammers out, flushing even more. “Good luck with the flowers.”

Turning on his heels before he can make a fool of himself, Louis hurries back to the house, feeling like an entire rookery has moved to his stomach.

\---

Colourful flowers with markings in their centre that almost look like a grumpy face and a day spent with Harry learning how to use their lawn tractor. Red, pink and orange flowers that look like they were made by tightly coiled silk paper and planting more flowers with Harry. A bouquet of red and yellow tulips. Purple flowers with long, thin petals and following Harry around all day pushing a wheelbarrow filled with gardening tools he learns to identify by sun fall. By the eight day, Louis’ room smells like a funeral home and he can’t enter his closet without knocking over a vase. 

And then on the ninth day: nothing. No flowers on his desk when he wakes up. Louis rubs his eyes and blinks against sleep before looking at his empty desk again. It can’t be. For eight days straight, there had been flowers waiting for him on his desk. He feels cheated that there are none because he’d grown used to finding them there. It was quite flattering to know that someone liked him enough to send him flowers even if they ended up hidden in his closet. He felt important, but clearly, he messed that up, too. Another good thing in his life that he’s managed to fuck up.

Listlessly, he gets out of bed and drags his feet to his closet, opening it. The flowers are all there, sitting pretty in their vases, the earliest ones already wilting and losing their petals. It’s a sight as pitiful as he feels so he shuts the door and goes over to his windows to pull back the curtains, only to find that it’s raining outside. It means no Harry and an entire day of endless boredom. He should probably just go back to bed. He doesn’t, though, because if his stepfather finds him in bed after ten, he’ll have a fit and it’ll trigger round seven of the Law School Fight so, instead, Louis gets dressed and makes his way downstairs, slumping on the living room couch and reaching for the television remote. 

Half an hour later he’s watching a movie he missed the beginning of, something about a florist and a newlywed bride who fall in love and there’s that terrifying lady from _Game of Thrones_ in it so Louis keeps watching, feeling deliciously seditious for listening to a movie about lesbians under his stepfather’s roof.

His rebellious attitude comes to a screeching halt when the florist explains that the lily she just gave to the other girl means ‘I dare you to love me’. He feels the blood drain from his face and he sits up straight on the couch, the movie completely forgotten. Flowers have meanings. Of course, flowers have meanings, why wouldn’t they? If people have birthstones and some believe that the alignment of the stars can predict your future, why wouldn’t others attribute meanings to flowers? It’s some kind of new age nonsense he’s always scoffed at, but just because he’s a pretentious little shit doesn’t mean that people don’t believe in that stuff.

Running back upstairs for his mobile, Louis dials Perrie’s number, pacing back and forth nervously while he waits for her to pick up.

“Pez!” he shouts when she answers. “Flowers have meanings!”

_“And?”_

“And someone’s been putting flowers in my room every morning for the past week! Maybe she’s trying to tell me something!” He’s going in the right direction with this idea, he can feel it.

_“She? What are you talking about, babe?”_

“I think one of our maids is in love with me and she’s been putting flowers in my room every morning and now I think there might be a meaning behind them. Like a secret message,” he rambles, throwing open the door of his closet. “I can only recognize gloxinias, lilac, mimosas and tulips, though. Isn’t your mother into gardening? She probably has one of those flower books, hasn’t she?”

Perrie sighs. _“I’m on my way.”_

Louis thanks her profusely and then spends the twenty minutes it takes for her to come over moving the flowers out of his closet and into the middle of his room. He arranges them in the order he received them and tries to make the wilting ones look slightly perkier, only to end up with handfuls of petals. He leaves them alone and picks up his laptop to try and find a website that will give him the meanings. 

Perrie grimaces as soon as she enters the room. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, it smells like a funeral home in here.” She opens the windows before dropping her bag on the bed and sitting next to Louis, who closes the lid of his laptop and turns his excited grin to her. “You look like a maniac.”

He ignores her comment. “Did you bring the book?”

“Yes, I did.” She pulls it out of her handbag and lays it down on the bed, the thick volume dipping the mattress. “I can’t believe you hid this from me for an entire week!” Louis expects the question that comes, Perrie not missing a beat in asking it: “Do you think Harry might be the one sending you the flowers?”

“No,” he says without hesitating.

“You asked?”

“I don’t need to. It’s obvious that he’s not.”

Perrie is silent for a moment, staring at him with a frown. He’s about to ask what she’s thinking about when she rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say, babe. So, flowers?”

It takes them an hour to find all of the flowers in the encyclopaedia. Perrie sifts through it while Louis writes down the name on a piece of paper that he places on the floor before the vases. Once they’ve identified all eight varieties, he stands before them with his hands on his hips. Outside, a storm is raging on, dimming the light and giving their activities a sort of moody Romantic atmosphere. Louis has to admit that he kind of fancies it and that a part of him almost wishes for a power shortage so that they may light candles.

“I feel like I’m in an Austen novel,” Perrie comments as she picks up Louis’ laptop, mirroring his thoughts. She moves from the bed to the plush armchair Louis keeps in his room, sitting sideways and draping her legs over the arm, her flip-flops dangling from her feet. “Alright, so what’s the first you got?”

“Gloxinia,” Louis replies, picking up the slip of paper to write down the meaning she’ll tell him.

“Alright, babe, here we go.” She reads what’s on the screen and bites back a smile. “Love at first sight.”

Louis clears his throat, feeling himself flushing as he writes it down. He moves to the next one in line. “Lilac?”

“First emotions of love.”

Louis writes it down. “Mimosa?”

“Secret love.”

“Love-in-a-mist?”

“You puzzle me.”

“Pansies?”

“You occupy my thoughts.” Perrie lets out a giggle. “Lou...”

“Shh, let’s keep going. Ranunculus?”

“I am dazzled by your charms.”

“Tulips?”

Perrie lowers the lid of the laptop to look at the bouquet. “You’ve got red and yellow in there. They mean...” She reads in silence for a moment. “Red is a declaration of love, yellow means ‘there’s sunshine in your smile’. Aw, babe, this is so sweet!”

“Keep going,” Louis insists, feeling more and more nervous for reasons he can’t quite comprehend. “Aster?”

“Daintiness or a symbol of love.”

Jotting it down quickly, Louis then sits on the edge of his bed, looking at the bouquets in a new way. “Fuck,” he breathes out.

Perrie looks up at him and begins smiling, only to stop abruptly when her eyes fall on something behind him. “What’s that?” she asks, nodding her head.

“What is what?” Louis turns around, expecting to see a spider on the wall or something like that, but the only thing she might be staring at is the pink rose Harry gave him when he found him crying. “Oh, that’s nothing. I got in a fight with my stepfather and Harry found me crying so he gave me that. He was probably going to throw it away and only did this to make me shut up,” he says in a monotone, reciting what he’s been telling himself for days to avoid getting his hopes high.

Perrie bites her lip and scrolls the webpage for a while before looking back up at Louis with a beaming smile. “Pink roses mean secret love.”

“But this pink rose means ‘oh shit, my employer’s son is slobbering all over the garden and he’s in my way, how can I get him to leave without getting sacked’,” Louis replies in an approximation of Harry’s slow, Northern drawl. 

Perries slams the laptop shut. “Louis.”

“Perrie,” he replies in the same tone, rolling his eyes. He’s already annoyed by the conversation he knows he’s about to have before it even happened.

“Do you honestly think that a gardener with a bloody butterfly tattooed on his chest doesn’t know about flower meanings? Harry looks exactly like the kind of sloppy _bohème_ hippie who’s into bollocks like flower meanings.”

“He’s not a sloppy _bohème_ hippie!” Louis snaps, feeling personally insulted by what Perrie said. “He’s a free spirit.”

“Bloody hell, Lou.” Perrie sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, I’ll make it obvious to you if you refuse to see it. When did you receive the first bouquet?”

“Nine days ago.”

Perrie puts the laptop down on the floor and comes back to the bed, climbing on it and sitting on her legs before reaching inside her bag for her mobile. She thumbs through it for a moment. “You texted me about fighting with the wanker ten days ago. And the next morning you got flowers talking about love at first sight.” She gives Louis a pointed look before continuing. “When did you start following him around all day?”

“The morning I got mimosas. I went out in the yard and he was cutting—” Louis stops mid-sentence, understanding hitting him like a freight train and knocking the breath out of him. “He was cutting mimosas, said he’d been at it all day.”

“And you say you didn’t get any this morning?” When Louis only shakes his head, Perrie laughs. “Guess who isn’t working because of the rain.”

It was Harry. It’s been Harry from the start and Louis was too much of a stupid wanker to realise. Harry’s been telling him he loves him through carefully picked flowers for a week and Louis’ been hanging out with him as if nothing was happening while the fittest, nicest, most amazing person he’s ever met was sending him morning after morning declarations of love. And he thought it was one of the maids! It was Harry. _Harry_. Harry the Fit Gardener who walks around shirtless with a smile like he’s the reason the sun rises every morning and Louis’ been too busy being oblivious to notice. He could have been _snogging_ Harry for the past _week_.

The thought makes him blush and he falls backwards on his bed, lying with his arms in a cross. “What do I do, now?”

“Tomorrow morning, you’re going to go find him and tell him you’re a bloody moron, but that now you’ve seen the light and want to marry him and have his babies.”

Louis kicks in the general direction of Perrie, smiling when he hears her let out a shout of protest. “You really think it’s him?”

Perrie pushes him off the bed with a groan.

\---

It rains the next morning, and the one after that. On the third rainy morning and the three more that come after it, Louis changes his morning routine to include a solid minute of cursing at the heavens for getting in the way of potential snogging time. Something might actually be about to happen to him and he’s confined in his home and kept away from the man he’s been pining over by the bloody English weather. The only thing that brightens his day, if only slightly, is the text he gets from Zayn, his college roommate turned best mate, telling him he’s back from his faux Dilettante trip around America due to a broken down van and a newly discovered and profound distaste for Americans. The text offers to have tea in two days and Louis hopes he’ll have managed to at least find out what it’s like to kiss someone sober before he sees Zayn, if only because Zayn will probably have wild stories of making out next to the Grand Canyon with a stripper with a heart of gold he picked up in Las Vegas.

It turns out that it does not happen because it just keeps on fucking raining and when he sits down for tea with Zayn in the conservatory, he’s still story-less outside of ‘so there’s this bloke who’s been giving me flowers’. He feels like shit, to be honest, and the constant rain isn’t helping his mood, running down the windowpanes of the conservatory in sheets, making Louis feel like he’s in an aquarium. The air hangs heavy with humidity, making his joints ache and the hair at the nape of his neck curl.

“So,” Louis says, stirring his tea before placing the spoon back on the saucer, blowing on the tea before taking a small sip. “Any wild stories to share?”

Zayn scoffs, leaning back in his cushioned wicker chair. His perfectly coiffed quiff and his designer leather jacket, the way he looks up at the glass ceiling and sighs and the attention he’s putting into looking like a tragic Romantic hero makes Louis excited for what he’s about to hear. If Zayn appears to be channelling the spirit of Châteaubriand, Louis is in for a fantastic time.

“Not really,” he finally says mournfully, looking back at Louis. He’s artfully unshaven, looking rugged and mysterious, and Louis’ oldest sister walked into a doorway when she saw him. It’d be annoying if it weren’t _Zayn_ , whom Louis knows carefully calculates everything he does to achieve this careless look. 

“Whatever happened, it was definitely more fun than my life since the end of the term. Tell me,” Louis prompts him, knowing Zayn well enough to know that he’ll hear the story even without prying, but that Zayn enjoys the attention and is more prone to give details if he’s guaranteed an enthralled audience.

“Our van broke down in Colorado.” Louis smiles, trying to look like he knows where Colorado is, or what kind of reaction Colorado should get out of him. Zayn continues without paying attention to Louis. “And not in the cool part of Colorado, but, like, in a national forest. We’d been driving for a week and then we were forced to stop, a hundred kilometres outside of Denver, _in the middle of the night_.” Zayn opens his eyes wide for emphasis. “We huddled up in the back of the van while Liam waited outside to stop someone so they could call for help because none of us had mobiles.”

“Country Club Liam?” Louis asks, surprised.

“Yeah, yeah. We were hooking up when I was planning that trip, so I was kind of forced to invite him.”

“You hooked up with Country Club Liam?! No, wait, more importantly, you invited him, but not me?!” Louis squawks, offended.

“You hate Kerouac,” Zayn replies in a tone that tells Louis just how annoyed he is that he has to answer.

“Yeah, so?”

“The plan was to reproduce Sal’s itinerary in _On The Road_ , you know, a sort of pilgrimage in the steps of the Beat generation,” Zayn mumbles into his tea. “In one of those Westfalia vans.”

Louis blinks at him a few times, torn between amusement, exasperation, and indignation. He goes for the former because he really does want to hear the rest of the story and the other two options would chase Zayn out of the house. “You’re a bloody pretentious wanker.”

Zayn smiles, rolling his eyes. “So, we’re all piled up in the back of the van and there’s no place for all of us, right? Because we were supposed to take turns driving. But now we’ve got to all be there together, except for Liam, who’s out in the dark waiting for a kind American to stop and offer assistance.”

“Nice oxymoron,” Louis says with a snort and Zayn nods with emphasis. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too, but then this—this man, this like...” Zayn narrows his eyes for a second, looking for the right words. “Imagine a stereotypical Canadian.”

Louis smirks. “Got it.”

“Make him the size of a grizzly bear and you’ve got the man who stopped. And do you know how I know how big a grizzly bear is?” Zayn doesn’t wait for Louis’ answer. “Because he took us to his house and he had a stuffed one in his living room. One that he’d killed himself.”

“You went to the home of a stranger in the middle of the night? Didn’t your mother teach you anything?” Louis shakes his head. “You’re the son of a bloody ambassador, Zayn, you’re worth millions in ransom.”

“We were desperate.” Zayn takes a sip of tea and from the way his posture changes, his shoulders tensing up and his face lighting up, Louis knows he’s about to get to the most interesting part of his story. “So it was me, Country Club Liam, one other bloke from uni and then those three girls, all crammed into that man’s van, and he turns on the CD player and there’s a musical playing. That one you love, with the witches and stuff.”

“ _Wicked_?”

“Yeah, that one. He drives us to his cabin in the woods—”

“For fuck’s sake, Zayn.”

Zayn raises his hand to shush Louis. “The girls all go up to one of the bedrooms and we hear them moving a dresser in front of the door. Can’t blame them. So it’s just us blokes downstairs and the man asks us about our story, you know, how we got there and stuff, and he brings out a bottle of bourbon.”

“Zayn...”

“And we started drinking and just, you know, just shooting the shit and then at some point I was sitting in Liam’s lap and—”

“ _Zayn_.”

“We were just snogging at that point! But then it got out of hand and, like, more serious, and—”

“Holy shit, Zayn, don’t tell me you had a gay orgy with a lumberjack and Country Club Liam.”

Zayn shrugs. “What if I did?”

Louis leans back in his chair, chuckling around a sip of tea, shaking his head. He knew, from the moment he met Zayn by walking into his dorm and seeing who was probably the most beautiful man he had ever seen outside of a magazine standing on his bare mattress to hang a _The Dark Knight Rises_ poster that he wouldn’t be bored with him. When it turned out that Zayn was as much into snogging people at parties than he was comic books, Louis’ life got just that much more complicated and not in an interesting, ‘hooking up with his roommate’ kind of way; it got stuck at an awkward five minutes of snogging at a party before their room turned into Zayn’s love shack and Louis more than once found himself having to wait outside of his own room before he could go to bed. He was the first to offer they move into a flat with separate bedrooms.

“I can’t believe you. Like, the fact that you exist. I can’t believe it.”

Bristling, Zayn huffs. “Are you judging me?”

Louis raises a hand in atonement. “Not at all. I’m just—Zayn, you had an orgy in a cabin in the woods in the middle of Colorado, excuse me for being a bit startled.” Louis runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck, up until now I didn’t even know you were hooking up with Country Club Liam. We’re supposed to be best mates.”

Zayn shrugs. “Didn’t want you to judge me or whatever, I know you don’t like Count—Liam.”

“You still could have told me. Just like you could’ve told me about your trip. All I knew was that you were going to the United States.”

“Are you mad at me?”

Louis looks into Zayn’s worried eyes and softens. He would have turned down the offer, had Zayn made it. The prospect of living in a van with six other people is frankly appalling and Zayn is right: he doesn’t care about Beat writers and would have made everyone miserable. And, well. Had he gone abroad, he’d have never met Harry. Louis glances out the windows, sighing when he can’t see anything through the water covering them. He misses Harry probably more than he’s allowed.

“No, I’m not. No more secrets now, okay? Even if I have to imagine you shagging Country Club Liam.”

Zayn nods, finishing his tea and pouring himself another cup. He grabs a sandwich and leans back in his chair, the saucer balanced on the arm. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

 _No more secrets_ , Louis thinks, dreading the way Zayn will react when he finds out about Harry. Probably like Perrie did. He’s not looking forward to it. “Not much. There’s, hum, we’ve got a new gardener and he’s fit.”

Zayn stretches his leg to kick Louis’ shin. “And you invite me when it’s raining? You suck, mate.”

“You invited yourself!” Louis replies, laughing. “Besides, I’d rather keep him for myself,” he adds, hiding a smile in his cup of tea.

“Yeah? Have you made a move yet?”

Louis sighs, putting his saucer and cup back on the table to curl up in the chair, sitting on his legs. “Not exactly.” He launches into the story of the past weeks, beginning with the first time he saw Harry up until the moment he realised he inadvertently found himself in a Victorian courtship with a 25 years old gardener and how he’s now waiting for the weather to clear so he can—well, he isn’t sure what he’ll do. He tells Zayn as much and is relieved to see that Zayn takes this seriously.

Nibbling on another sandwich, Zayn stays quiet for a moment, lost in thoughts. “Have you considered giving him a flower as an answer? Since that’s his thing?”

Louis considers it, scratching at his thumbnail. “So what, I walk up to him, hand him the flower and then run away?” His tea’s going cold on the table, but he’s too nervous to drink it. Now that they’re talking about doing it, Louis realises that he probably does not have the courage to respond to Harry’s advances.

“It’d be best if you didn’t run away,” Zayn says with a chuckle. “He might want to kiss you after you do that. You don’t want to miss it.”

“But what if he doesn’t? He might change his mind.”

“Do we need to go have a look at the flowers again, Louis? Is that what you need to realise how much of a twat you’re being right now?”

Louis sighs, running his hands down his face. “I’m just worried because I really, really like him, alright? And I can’t believe it’s happening.”

Zayn softens, smiling kindly. “Don’t worry, you already know he likes you. If anything, he’s the one who should be worried sick over this. Should I look up which flower you should give him?”

Louis picks up his cup of tea and nods, feeling a knot form in his stomach when Zayn takes out his mobile and starts typing on it rapidly.

\---

It rains for another two days, but on the third, Louis wakes up to sunlight pouring in through the curtains he forgot to shut the night before. His laptop is opened next to him, abandoned there after he fell asleep watching a movie. He stretches and yawns, stopping it all mid-movement when he sees a vase filled with red flowers on his desk. He lets out a giggle and jumps out of bed, picking up the encyclopaedia Perrie left him before sitting on his desk and leafing through it quickly until he recognizes the flowers as being carnations. Going back to his bed, he wakes up his laptop and clicks through his Internet favourites until he finds the right website and sees it: 

_Carnation (red): My heart aches for you._

He runs to a window and throws it open, peering outside and squinting against the bright morning sun in search of Harry. He places his hand over his brow to shield his eyes and looks around, his heart hammering in his chest and his fingers feeling numb from nerves. At last, he sees Harry, knelt in the wet grass and bent over a shrub, his back to Louis. Louis bites his lip and allows himself to stare for a few seconds before he shakes his head to snap out of it and hurries to shower.

He takes longer than usual to get ready, scrubbing his skin until it turns red and washing his hair twice. Picking his clothes takes close to an hour before he settles on a pair of red chinos and a white shirt with navy stripes. He slips on a pair of comfortable trainers and then gives himself a last glance in the mirror before going down for breakfast. 

He barely eats; his nerves make him nauseous and after twenty minutes he gives up and runs back upstairs to his mother’s craft room, where he picks a piece of white cardboard and a length of red ribbon. He punches a hole in the corner of the cardboard and writes down ‘ _meet me in the gazebo for lunch? L._ ’ in his best hand using a golden pen.

Going back to his room, he carefully takes one of the carnations out of the vase and ties the card to the stem with the ribbon, making a bow as best as he can. He knew that growing up with four sisters would one day be useful; he’s better than he’s willing to admit at crafts. Then he’s out of his room again, running down the stairs and out of the house before he can be seen carrying a flower.

It’s only once he’s walking across the lawn towards Harry that he realises it might not be the best idea to give it to him himself. He’ll probably blush and stutter before running away, which is not the image he’s trying to project. He has to be cool and composed, not act like a scared teenager. Changing his trajectory, Louis heads for the shed where Harry leaves his bags, taking a detour to avoid being seen by him. He places the flower on Harry’s lunch bag carefully and then runs back out, hurrying back towards the house to get his keys and hop in his car. He has an hour before Harry stops for his lunch.

His first stop is Sainsbury’s to buy food for a picnic. He spends a few minutes in front of the grapes, debating whether there’s a possibility that they might feed them to each other, but the thought makes him blush and he scurries away, instead buying a tray of cupcakes for dessert. After that, he gets bread and cold cuts for sandwiches, grabbing a pack of sliced cheese and a pot of mustard before moving on to get them lemonade, hurrying when he sees that time is running out. Throwing his purchases in the trunk of his car, he then drives to a florist to pick up a bouquet Zayn had called to have prepared despite Louis’ protests. 

He gets back home with fifteen minutes to spare, and he hurries to the gazebo to set everything up, sneaking a tablecloth, glasses and utensils out of the kitchen as he goes. He has to duck behind a thicket of shrubs to avoid being seen by Harry and it’s with a hammering heart that he begins setting up the gazebo for their picnic, laying out the table and placing the bouquet where Harry will sit before sitting on a chair and breathing out deeply. 

Now, he only has to wait for Harry to get his message.

Louis is about to check the time on his mobile for the twentieth time in fifteen minutes when Harry knocks gently on one of the pillars of the gazebo. He’s holding the carnation and, although Louis can’t believe his eyes, smiling almost shyly. He appears to have changed out of his work clothes, wearing a thin white v-neck shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans instead of the faded plaid shirt and torn jeans Louis is used to see him in. He’s still wearing his hat, the curls sticking out from underneath looking soft and almost feathery in the sunlight.

“Hey, I got your message.” He sniffs the flower, looking at Louis through his eyelashes as he does.

Louis gets up and wipes his hands on his trousers, not quite sure of what he’s supposed to do next. He swallows, his throat painfully dry, and smiles. “I got yours.” Harry beams and it gives him courage, so he adds: “Even if it took me a week to understand.”

“More like two weeks,” Harry corrects him, walking up the two steps of the gazebo and delicately placing the carnation on the table. His eyes fall on the bouquet and he glances up at Louis. “For me?”

“Y-yeah. I hope you like them. You can—” Louis clears his throat. “You can sit.”

Staying up, Harry picks up the bouquet and frowns in concentration as he observes it. “Jonquils, red camellias, daffodils...” He pauses to give Louis a smile. “And red gloxinias.” He brings it closer to his face to smell it, closing his eyes for a moment. “They’re all love flowers, you know.”

Louis bites his lip. “I know.”

Harry finally sits down and Louis mirrors him, wiping his hands on his trousers once more. “You look lovely today, Louis.”

Flustered, Louis lets out a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Thank you. Do you want lemonade? I bought, hum, stuff for sandwiches. And cupcakes,” Louis describes despite everything being laid out on the table for Harry to see.

“Great! My lunch today was six days old shepherd's pie that my flatmate made and I don’t have a microwave, so it would have been old, cold shepherd's pie.” Harry takes the glass of lemonade Louis offers him and drinks a small sip, smiling when he puts it down. “So, what made you understand what I was trying to tell you?”

“It rained and I didn’t get any flowers,” Louis replies. “And my friend Perrie. She’s the one who helped me with the... the meanings.”

“I should probably get flowers for Perrie to thank her, then. I really thought you’d understood when you asked about the mimosas, but then you started talking about something else and never brought it up again.”

Louis laughs self-consciously, busying himself with opening the bag of bread and taking out four slices for Harry and him. “I couldn’t even imagine that you might be the one sending them.”

Harry takes the offered slices and then uncaps the mustard, putting a thick layer on his bread. “Why not?” He licks mustard off the edge of his thumb, eyes on Louis, and Louis has to look away. 

“Well, you’re—you’re you and I’m me, basically.”

“And?”

“And guys like you don’t flirt with guys like me. That’s not how it works,” Louis splutters out, laying slices of cold cut on his bread with shaking hands. He’s not even sure he’ll be able to eat, but the motions help him stay focused.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Harry places his hand on his forearm. Harry squeezes his arm when he notices. “Hey, relax. You don’t have to be nervous, this isn’t a regular first date. You’ve already got me.”

Louis lets out a strangled laugh, shaking his head. “You’re not helping.” He puts a hand to his cheek, feeling it flushed underneath his palm. 

Harry lets go of him and nods, going back to preparing his sandwich. “Alright, we’ll just talk. We’re used to that, aren’t we?”

With a nod, Louis gulps down his lemonade and pours himself another glass. “Yes, talking is fine. I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you, too.” Louis lowers his eyes when he sees Harry’s beaming smile and takes his time cutting his sandwich into four triangles. “So, hum, where did you learn about what flowers mean?”

“My ex,” Harry replies after chewing a bite of sandwich. “He was into things like that, like the horoscope, you know, that kind of stuff. He taught me about it. He’d give me messages through them, like ‘you look lovely today’ or ‘sorry, I cheated on you again’.” Harry shrugs. “It was the best thing to use for you, because if it turned out you were the kind of person to be offended if someone from the house staff developed a crush on them, I’d be able to deny it, you know?”

Louis blinks, needing a few seconds to take in all of what Harry just said. “You’re really honest, aren’t you?”

Harry shrugs again. “Yeah. Being honest with your feelings is easier. It avoids a lot of messes. I knew I liked you from the moment I saw you pretending you hadn’t been staring at me by reading a child’s novel.”

“Fuck,” Louis breathes out, hiding his face in his hand. “I was hoping you’d forgotten about it.”

Harry lets out a laugh. “Nope. I didn’t forget. Don’t be embarrassed, I thought it was charming.”

“Can you—tell me more about yourself. We, hum, we always talk about gardening or my stepfather when we’re together, but I barely know you while you know everything there is to know about me.”

“I’d argue that I don’t, but alright.” Harry thinks for a moment. “My name’s Harry, I’m 25 years old, I grew up in a wee village in Cheshire before moving to London when I was 18. I’ve been working as a gardener over the summer for three years, now, and the rest of the year I pick up whatever temp job I can find to make ends meet. I share a lousy flat with an Irish bloke I met in a bar fight.” He pauses to sip on his lemonade. “That’s all there is to know, really.”

Louis nods. “You met your flatmate in a bar fight?”

Harry laughs. “Yeah. There were those two blokes bothering a group of girls and we both got up to defend them at the same time. After we were done, we got smashed together and I woke up on his couch. He offered me to move in the same day.”

“Did you—with him?”

“God, no!” Harry laughs again, shaking his head. “Niall’s extremely heterosexual.”

Louis nods again and takes a bite of his sandwich, pondering on the exciting world Harry seems to inhabit where people take on jobs they like rather than secure ones and where they go out into the world and move in with strangers they’ve met in a brawl. It’s a world where one’s sexual orientation doesn’t matter and isn’t something to hide. Harry is free and independent, doing his own thing while Louis sits alone in his bedroom and worries about everything. He wishes he had the courage to throw himself at the world like Harry does, but he knows he doesn’t have it in him. He’s scared of everything, even of a man who’s made it obvious that he likes him.

The saddest thing is that Louis wouldn’t even know what to do if he had the freedom Harry has. He goes through the motions of his life without ever stopping to wonder if he enjoys what he’s doing; realising he might not would be terrifying, to be honest. He’s in university because that was the thing to do, the intuitive next step to take, but he can’t say that he likes school or what he studies. He considered drama, but he knew that his stepfather would not have let him; the next best thing was literature, in a sort of self-sabotaging, masochistic way. With a literature degree, he’s made sure that he’ll never do any of the things his stepfather wants from him while at the same time making himself dependent of him. The thought makes him sick, but he wouldn’t know what else to do. He likes reading books because he’s always done it, but he wouldn’t be able to say what he likes or wants to do with his life. 

“What about you?” Harry asks, pulling Louis out of his thoughts.

Louis clears his throat. “Hum, my name’s Louis, I’m 19 years old. I grew up in Yorkshire, until my mum married the wanker and we moved here. I go to university, where I study literature, and, huh, that’s it.” 

“I don’t believe that this is all there is to you.”

Louis sighs. “My friends are the most interesting part of me.” When Harry lifts an eyebrow, Louis continues. “My two best friends are, respectively, in line for the throne and the son of a foreign ambassador.”

“Aren’t we all in line for the throne, though?”

Louis shakes his head. “Not like Perrie. She won’t tell me how close she really is, but, like, she was invited to the royal wedding.”

“The same Perrie who offered me lemonade?”

“That one. And Zayn, fuck, Zayn spent like, three weeks in America and he managed to have a gay orgy with a grizzly-bear-killing lumberjack and Country Club Liam.”

“Country Club Liam?” Harry asks, visibly amused.

Louis blushes. “Oh, he’s just this bloke from country club, I’ve like, always known him but we never spoke, but then we ended up in the same hall and Zayn hooked up with him,” Louis rambles, feeling childish for having a silly nickname for Liam. Adults like Harry don’t use nicknames like that. Adults like Harry also probably talk to people they’ve been seeing at least weekly for nearly 15 years.

“I didn’t even know people actually went to country clubs. I thought it was a movie thing. See? Your life is interesting. It’s fascinating to me. What does one do at a country club?”

With a shrug, Louis takes a sip of lemonade. “We play golf, mostly, and talk about trust funds and stock exchange.”

Harry gives him a smile. “You play golf?”

“Sadly, yeah. I ride horses, too, and I fence.” Louis picks at his sandwich, feeling the weight of Harry’s eyes on him. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Harry asks, his voice playful.

Louis glances up. “The way you are right now.”

“Like you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met? Why, am I going to make you blush?”

Louis lets out a giggle and covers his mouth with his hands, blushing. “You can’t say things like that!” he protests, his voice coming out in a squeak. “I’m trying to look cool and you’re ruining it.”

Harry pouts, reaching across the table to stroke Louis’ hand. “You don’t have to. Just relax and have fun.”

Louis inhales deeply and lets out a shaky exhale, forcing himself to hold Harry’s eyes. They look impossibly green in the sunlight and they’re looking at Louis with such fondness and tenderness that he feels himself blushing once more. 

“I can’t stop blushing, it’s really annoying.”

“I think it’s adorable. I haven’t had this effect on a guy in such a long time.” Harry says with a bright smile. “But I know what you mean, I used to be like that, too.”

Louis scoffs. “I don’t believe you.”

“You should! There was a time when I was bashful. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” Harry puts his hand over his heart, nodding emphatically. “So I know how hard it is for you right now, but I want you to know that you don’t have anything to worry about. Nothing you could do or say would make me run away, unless you told me you’re like a cannibal or something.” Harry leans forward. “You’re not, are you? Because I once went out on a date with this guy who was really into biting and it was just weird.”

Louis shakes his head, smiling and completely charmed by Harry’s attempt to calm him down. He lets out a sigh, resting his chin on his hand. “You should tell me more about this guy.”

Harry launches into the story, gesturing and talking with his hands, and Louis lets himself be lulled by Harry’s deep voice, listening to its timbre much more than he pays attention to the story. Despite his nerves and the vague nausea he’s been having since they sat down, Louis really enjoys his time with Harry. He’s charming and funny and he looks at Louis like he matters. It doesn’t happen often, people usually overlook him, and it leaves him reeling whenever he notices Harry doing it. It’s especially fascinating to see Harry becoming so animated; Louis had always imagined him as a dark and mysterious man who kept to himself and tended gardens, but it turns out that he’s closer to an excited puppy than the Harlequin novel hero Louis had imagined. And he really, really likes it.

“Louis?”

Louis blinks and sees that Harry is waving his hand in front of his face to try and get his attention. He smiles sheepishly. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“I was asking what one does with a literature degree.”

“Oh!” Louis purses his lips, feeling bad for having missed half of the conversation. How Harry went from talking about a past date to asking Louis about his future, he doesn’t understand. “Not much.”

“So do you know what you want to do when you graduate?” Harry opens the plastic box of the cupcakes, taking one out and licking icing off his fingers.

“Anything but become a lawyer.” Louis watches Harry bite into the cupcake, barely holding back a whine when icing gets on Harry’s nose and he tries to lick it off. “Are you always this ill-mannered during dates or are you doing this especially for me?”

Harry’s eyes widen and a slow smile stretches across his lips. “There you are. I was wondering when you’d stop being shy.”

Fighting the impulse to lower his eyes, Louis shakes his head. “I’m still shy, but your manners are too appalling to keep quiet.”

“You’ll have to teach me proper table etiquette.” Harry is smiling playfully, deliberately having terrible manners (or so Louis hopes): in the ten seconds Louis looks at him, he wipes his mouth with his arm and then rests his elbows on the table. 

“Absolutely,” Louis replies, taking a cupcake for himself. “You’re in dire need of a lesson on manners. Your mother should be ashamed.” He has no idea where he’s finding the nerve to give Harry lip, but he’ll have plenty of time to be mortified about it later.

“What about tomorrow night? Are you free?”

Louis’ eyes widen. Another date with Harry in less than 48 hours; it’s too soon and not soon enough, it would seem, and he needs to remember to breathe because he isn’t sure he’s been doing it at all in the past minute.

“Hum, I think I am,” he replies, trying to sound like he isn’t sure. _Cosmo_ says to not agree to dates right away because then you look desperate. “Can I let you know later?”

Harry frowns briefly, pursing his lips before smiling once more. “Sure, I’ll give you my number, just text me when you know. Preferably soon? I’ll need to go to Tesco, I’ll be cooking.”

Oh, _Christ_ , Harry’s inviting him to his flat. Louis isn’t sure of the rules for that. Will he have to put out if they’re at his flat, especially since he’ll be buying all of the food? What’s the etiquette in terms of dating when you’re visiting the guy at his own place? They haven’t even kissed yet, he isn’t sure he should be going to Harry’s place, not if he doesn’t want to look like a floozy.

“I will,” Louis replies, his throat dry. He hands Harry his mobile and watches him type his name and number in, biting his lip at how small it looks in Harry’s big hands. Taking it back, Louis checks that everything is in order and chokes on air. “You put yourself in as ‘Harry the Fit Gardener’?!”

“Don’t think I didn’t overhear you and Perrie,” Harry replies with a smirk, getting up and grabbing his bouquet. “I have to go, but thanks again for the flowers, I love them.”

Louis stands up, too, and shoves his hands in his pockets, not knowing what to do next. Should they kiss? Everyone says not to kiss on the first date, but at the same time, he really, really wants to kiss Harry, so maybe he could? Harry probably wouldn’t mind, although he might dislike that Louis doesn’t know how to kiss, and _fuck_ , Louis doesn’t know how to kiss, he can’t kiss Harry before he practiced, he’ll have to call Zayn or Perrie for help, _shit_.

Harry answers all of his questions by leaning down and pressing a kiss to Louis’ cheek, one hand on Louis’ shoulder. “I really hope you can make it tomorrow,” he says in a low voice, his breath tickling Louis’ ear and making the hair at the back of his neck stand up. Brushing his nose against Louis’ cheekbone, Harry leans back and smiles one last time before walking away. Louis collapses into his chair as soon as he’s disappeared behind a hedge and bursts out in a fit of nervous giggles, hiding his face against the table.

 _I just had lunch with Harry!!!!!!_ he starts typing to Perrie. _He invited me for dinner at his place tomorrow. Do I go????_

He leaves his mobile on the table as he starts cleaning up, and it buzzes less than thirty seconds later.

 _YES OMG GET IT LOU_ , Perrie replied, and Louis laughs when he reads it.

_But what if he wants to have sex?_

Louis waits until he’s back in the house, the picnic supplies safely stored back where they belong, to open Perrie’s reply.

_Do you not want him to take you in a manly fashion over a table?_

Louis blushes and runs up to his room, shutting the door and slumping in his armchair.

 _We haven’t even kissed yet D:_ , he replies. _What if I suck?_

Perrie’s reply is instantaneous: _I’m not helping you practice. Call Zayn._

_But I really should go to his place? What if he’s an axe murderer?_

_He probably doesn’t keep an axe in a London flat. But there’s one in your shed and you’re still alive. Do the maths._

Louis chuckles. _But I suck at maths._

_GO TO THE BLOODY DATE TOMLINSON._

Sighing nervously, Louis nods to his mobile and opens a text message to Harry, staring at the blinking cursor without any idea what to write. Whenever he starts typing ‘ _Hey!_ ’ or ‘ _Hi!_ ’ he feels too casual, but without them it sounds rude, and he won’t even start on what to say next, he has no idea. After fifteen minutes of slight panic and heart palpitations, he settles for something simple: ‘ _It’s on_ ’ with a smiley face. Harry looks like the kind of guy who likes smiley faces.

So Louis types: _It’s on ;)_ quickly before he changes his mind and realises just as he’s pressing send that he pressed the semicolon instead of the colon and now he’s flirting with Harry. With a yelp, he locks his mobile and places it on the end table next to him, staring at it like it might catch fire.

His mobile buzzes a minute later, the screen lighting up, and he sees that it’s from ‘Harry the Fit Gardener’. Picking it up with shaking hands, Louis unlocks it.

_Yay! Can’t wait to see you! :D <3_

Louis stares at the message, his breath stuck in his throat. Harry sent him a heart. Louis feels like his brain is screaming because _Harry sent him a heart_. He takes a screenshot of the message and sends it to Perrie with a dozen exclamation marks, before replying to Harry on a whim.

_Shouldn’t you be working right now?_

While Louis reads Perrie’s reply (just as many exclamation marks), Harry replies.

_What are you, my boss? Wait._

Bursting into giggles, Louis puts his hand over his mouth, typing his reply with one hand.

_Not your boss, his hated stepson._

Louis walks over to the window to see where Harry is. Finding him by the fountain, Louis rests his elbows on the windowsill and watches him, biting his lip against a grin when he sees Harry wipes his hands on his trousers before slipping his mobile out of his pocket. He’s too far for Louis to see how he reacts to the message, but seconds later, his mobile buzzes in his pocket.

_Should I call you Cinderella?_

Dialing Harry’s number before he can think about it twice, Louis bites his lip nervously until Harry picks up. “Go back to work!” he says quickly before hanging up, watching Harry closely to see his reaction. 

He stares at his mobile and laughs before typing on it and putting it away. His reply makes Louis’ heart melt.

_You can stop me talking to you, but you can’t stop me thinking about you._

With a barely contained shriek, Louis starts planning his outfit for his date, feeling like he’s floating on cloud nine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flower website can be found [here](http://www.victorianbazaar.com/meanings.html). My research has shown me that not everyone agrees on the exact meanings of flowers, so what is in this fic is entirely based on the website I mentioned above.
> 
> The movie is _Imagine Me And You_. I highly recommend it and it's only, like, 65% because it's a lesbian movie with a happy ending.
> 
> Happy holidays, everyone! See you on the 26th, when I'll be trying out 1,001 ways to eat turkey leftovers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a huge thank you to everyone who took the time to comment. It makes me so happy.
> 
> The second half of this chapter was written entirely during a train ride between London and Edinburgh, so roughly around the morning after (you'll get it), I had to stop because we were going through Doncaster and I had to stare out the window and drink it all in while it happened.
> 
> Moving on, you get to meet Niall in this chapter!

Louis takes a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. He fiddles with his shirt, pulling it down and smoothing it as he waits to be buzzed in. 

When he woke up with a message from Harry giving him his address and at what time he was expected, Louis almost threw up with nerves. He spent the day nagging Perrie for kissing tips and changing his outfit, finally choosing a red and white striped shirt that he pairs with black skinny jeans that he knows make his bum look fantastic and, on a whim that made his heart hammer at the possibilities that it entailed, he chose to keep his glasses on instead of putting his contacts in. Harry might offer him to spend the night. He might be courageous enough to do what he’s been fantasizing about for weeks. And if so, he’ll appreciate not having to worry about waking up with dried bits of plastic in his eyes.

He had to lie that he is going out with Zayn before he hopped into the taxi he called and spent the long ride to Harry’s flat nervously fiddling with his hair, trying to fix it with the front-facing camera of his mobile. And then he was out of the cab and standing in front of a dingy building in a dodgy neighbourhood and feeling, perhaps for the first time of his life, like he really does look as outrageously rich as he is.

The speaker by the door crackles and he hears Harry’s voice. “Yeah?”

“It’s me.” Biting his lip, he frowns. “Louis. Tomlinson.”

“Lou! Come on up, we’re on the fourth floor.” 

The door buzzes and Louis pushes it, looking around for a lift. Finding none, he climbs the first few steps and then looks up the staircase, feeling a wave of vertigo hit him at the sight. He sighs and starts climbing, ready to give up by the second floor. He knows he’s not in shape, but _fuck_ , this is just unfair. He’s all red in the face and sweaty once he reaches Harry’s floor and he takes a few minutes on the landing of the fourth floor, leaning against the wall and breathing hard, wiping his sweaty brow with his arm. 

Once his breathing is under control and his camera confirms that he’s back to normal colours, Louis knocks on Harry’s door, taking a deep breath and smiling in preparation for when Harry will open the door. He’s jumping slightly on the balls of his feet and tapping his fingers against his thighs nervously, and just when he’s about to knock again, the door swings open, revealing—

A blond man, barely taller than Louis, who’s grinning at Louis with crooked teeth and a face like it’s Christmas come early. Louis’ smile falters.

“Oh, huh, I think I have the wrong...” He checks the message Harry sent him, confirming that he knocked on the right door. “Is... I’m looking for Harry? Harry Styles?”

The blond man only smiles wider and peers back into the flat. “Haz, there’s a boy scout here to sell you a calendar, I think.” He smiles back at Louis.

He has an Irish accent. Harry’s flatmate is Irish. Louis breathes out a sigh of relief.

“You’re his flatmate, aren’t you?”

Just as he asks, Harry appears behind the man, grabbing him from behind and dragging him away from the door. “Get lost, tosser.” Turning to Louis, Harry smiles. “Sorry about Niall. He was dropped on the head when he was born, it’s not his fault.”

From inside the flat, Louis hears a loud shout of protest and what sounds a lot like: “You _cunt_.”

“Hi, come in, love,” Harry continues, pulling Louis in with a hand on his shoulder. “Did you have trouble finding the place?”

Louis stares for a few seconds, breathless at the sight of Harry. He realises it’s the first time he sees him indoors and he positively glows, his skin golden and contrasting sharply with the navy shirt covered with white hearts he put on. His hair is styled up in a quiff and he’s wearing tight, dark jeans and a pair of black leather boots. Louis clears his throat and blinks, remembering that oh, right, he was asked a question.

“No, no, my cabbie knew—oh!” he exclaims as Harry pulls him into a hug. Louis hugs him back, hiding his smile against Harry’s shoulder, biting his lip against it when Harry lets go of him. “It smells delicious in here.”

“Thanks! Lasagne’s my specialty. Come on, I’ll show you around.” Harry wraps his arm around Louis’ shoulders and steers him forward. “This here is the kitchen-living-dining-room, we spend a lot of time here.” 

Louis looks around at the rather small space, with a small kitchen in the far right corner, a small table set for two, and then the entire left side of the flat which is filled by a large flat screen, a beat up couch that can sit two with an armchair next to it, and a few video game consoles.

“And down there, you’ve got our rooms,” Harry continues, pulling Louis along a hallway that starts from the centre of the flat. “Here’s the bathroom,” he says, pointing the first door on the right, “there’s Niall’s room and then there’s mine,” he finishes, first showing the door on the left and then the second one on the right. “It’s not much, but that’s my place.”

Louis looks up at him with a smile. “I love it. It feels cozy.”

Harry smiles back. “I love your glasses.” He touches the black frames with the tip of his finger and then goes back to the kitchen, talking as he goes. “Dinner should be ready soon! And Niall will leave before it is, right, Niall?”

“I want lasagne, too,” Niall says from the couch without looking up from the game he’s playing on his mobile. “You never cook nice meals for me, Hazza.”

Shaking his head, Harry rolls his eyes at Louis. “Ignore him.”

Louis gives him a tight smile and wipes his hands on his trousers, not quite knowing where to put himself and feeling awkward for standing in the middle of the room. He shuffles closer to the kitchen, resting his hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’d never been in this part of town before,” he comments. “It’s lovely.”

“No, mate, it’s shite,” Niall calls and Harry chuckles.

“He’s right. It’s a shit part of town, but it’s our shit part of town.” Harry goes over to the fridge and peers inside, cursing under his breath before straightening up. “I forgot to buy strawberries, I’ve got to go.”

“I can come along!” Louis says, too enthusiastic to sound normal.

“No need, love, I’ll be right back. And I need someone to keep an eye on the soup. If it boils, you take it off the burner, yeah? I won’t be long.”

Harry kisses his forehead and then he’s out the door, leaving Louis alone with a terrifying Irishman and a potential disaster in the kitchen. He walks over to the oven and peers inside the pot, biting his lip. He turns back towards the living room and yelps when he sees Niall standing close by.

“I don’t know how this thing works.”

Niall smirks. “What? People? Relationships?”

“Cooking,” Louis admits with a sigh. “I’ll ruin it and Harry will hate me.”

“You can’t even boil soup?” When Louis shakes his head, Niall cackles, throwing his head back. “I can’t believe this shit. Rich people are hilarious. Move,” he says, pushing Louis out of the way to stand by the pot. “Haz doesn’t hate people, by the way. That’s his biggest problem.”

“Alright, then I won’t have a second date.”

Niall frowns. “I thought you guys were already a thing.”

Louis opens wide, panicked eyes. “Are we?”

“That’s what it sounded like when he said you were coming over.”

“What did he say?” Louis asks, wringing his hands. 

“Just that I had to get the fuck out of the flat.”

Louis frowns. “But you’re still here.”

“Yeah, I don’t take orders from lads who wear ugly hats.”

“His hat isn’t ugly!” he replies, feeling personally offended. 

“Yeah, but you would say that, wouldn’t you?”

Louis looks at Niall with narrowed eyes, unsure of how he’s supposed to react. Was that an insult? Is Niall saying he’s got terrible taste? Oh god, maybe he does. Maybe he’s literally the only person who thinks Harry dresses well. Maybe he looks like shit right now and doesn’t even know it.

“Why do you say that?” Louis asks, sounding more defensive than he intended.

“Because it’s obvious you’re arse over tits in love with him,” Niall replies with a shrug, lifting the cover of the pot to sniff the soup. 

Taking a step back under the shock, Louis feels himself blush violently. “Do you think he can tell?” He worries his lip nervously with his teeth, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“He’s oblivious to most things.” Niall opens a drawer and takes out a spoon to taste the soup, grimacing when he undoubtedly burns his tongue. “This needs more salt.”

Watching Niall grab a saltshaker from a cupboard, Louis wrings his hands, bouncing his right leg. “Oh. Maybe he doesn’t care.”

“Nah, mate, he cares a lot about you,” Niall says with a chuckle, tasting the soup once more.

“No, but I mean... maybe... sex?”

Niall looks at him with a frown. “What?”

“Maybe he only cares about sex.”

Taking another spoonful of soup, Niall shakes his head. “He can have sex easily, he doesn’t need you for that. He especially doesn’t need to cook to get laid.”

“What does he need me for, then? I’m nothing special, I’m just... just a silly little boy. I’m not good at anything or even attractive, I’m... I don’t understand what he wants.”

Niall finally stops fussing over the soup to look at Louis, cocking his head to the side and pursing his lips. “I don’t know. You’re not his type and you’re younger. All I know is that he stopped bringing guys home after he met you.”

Louis brightens up at that, standing up straighter, feeling strangely relieved despite, well. Despite the elaborate flower theme Harry used to woo him, which should be enough to convince him that Harry really is interested in him. “Did he? That’s good.” Moving past Niall in the kitchen, Louis takes a peek at the soup. “Should we do something about it?”

“I don’t know, is it boiling?” Niall asks, condescendingly.

Louis recoils. “Hum, yes. Small bubbles. Should I... huh, turn off the burner?”

“Yes, and what else did he ask?”

Blushing because of Niall’s tone, Louis shrugs. “I don’t remember,” he squeaks.

Niall rolls his eyes, patting Louis’ cheek on his way to the oven. “Fuck, he kisses you and you go brain dead. How often have I seen this happen?” He turns off the burner and moves the pot off it.

“Does he bring a lot of guys here, then? Does he... does he date a lot?”

“I told you, he used to. But usually, the meal we shared was breakfast, if you know what I mean.” Niall winks at Louis and he feels his stomach churn.

It was too good to be true. Of course, Harry invited him over with the plan that he would shag Louis. Why would it be any other way? Harry’s a grown man and this is what he’s used to, and if a child like Louis won’t give it to him, he’ll go get it somewhere else. And even if Louis came over with his glasses in case Harry does ask him to spend the night, imagining he might and finding out he will are two different things. In Louis’ scenario, Harry was serious about the date.

Louis backs out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I should—I’ll just go, alright? I thought—” Shaking his head, Louis turns for the door. He feels hot and cold, like all of his blood has turned to ice and yet he’s burning with shame for having thought that he would have a chance with Harry. He’s just a silly child and he hates himself so much.

“Hey!” Niall follows him, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t go! He’ll be so disappointed if you leave. He’ll have huge sad eyes and he’ll mope for days, please don’t put me through this.”

“But I’m not here to... to share breakfast tomorrow. I was daft for thinking he might...” Louis shakes his head. “Forget it. I just want to go home.”

Niall surprises him by sighing dramatically and taking him by the shoulders to look straight into his eyes. “I’m only going to say this once and I’ll deny everything if you tell him I told you: Haz fancies you. Don’t be nervous, Harry’s the best person I’ve met. Even if you two don’t work out, he’ll make sure you’re okay.”

“But I want us to work,” Louis says in a small voice. 

“So does he.”

The ghost of a smile appears on Louis’ lips as he feels the shock and panic from earlier receding. “You think so?”

“Yeah, totally.” Niall nods and lets go of Louis to go back to the couch, picking up his mobile and typing quickly before setting it down. “Tell you what, I could be convinced to get out of the flat for the evening.” 

Louis stares at him for a moment before understanding. “How much?”

“Name your price,” Niall says, getting up and coming closer with a smirk. “What is total intimacy with Harry worth?”

“Fifty quid?” Louis offers, looking through his wallet and taking out everything he has in it.

Niall grabs the money and shoves it in his pocket. “I’d have left for five, but thanks, Lou. I hope I see more of you. I’ll let the lads know the first round’s on Harry’s new boyfriend.” He claps Louis’ shoulder and then leaves, not before putting a snapback on his head. So much for making fun of Harry’s hat.

Louis lets out a deep sigh, feeling out of place to be alone in Harry’s flat. Looking around, he spots a bookshelf and walks over to it, picking up a picture frame and smiling at the picture. It features a younger Harry and a younger Niall, arms thrown around each other in the booth of a bar, clinking pints and grinning at the camera. Louis traces the contours of Harry’s face on it, feeling his heart swell at how much younger he looks and how strange it is to see his skin milky white. Next to him, Niall looks like a child, with round, rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes. Louis puts down the picture and picks up another one, this time of two women. Harry recognises them immediately as Harry’s mother and sister, the resemblance between the three making him smile. 

He’s about to pick up a third one when the door opens and shuts, letting in a breathless, red-faced Harry. “I’m sorry it took so long, there was a lady in front of me trying to pay with expired coupons. It took forever.” He drops the strawberries on the counter and looks around, frowning. “Where’s Niall?”

“He left,” Louis says simply, walking over to the kitchen and leaning against the counter to watch Harry as he resumes fluttering around the kitchen, doing ten things at once.

“There is a god!” Harry exclaims, grinning. “Can you wash and cut the strawberries for me? I need them for the cake.” He takes out a cutting board and a knife before checking the oven.

“There’s a cake?” Louis asks brightly as he turns on the tap to wash his hands. “What kind of cake?”

“It’s a surprise!” Harry bumps his hip against Louis’ as he moves the pot of soup off the stove, making him yelp and drop a strawberry on the floor. “Just rinse it, love. I washed the floor this morning.”

Louis does as he’s told and then finishes up quickly, moving out of Harry’s way when he takes the lasagne out of the oven and then begins filling deep bowls with soup.

“Can I help with something?”

“Uncork the wine and we’re all set for dinner. Corkscrew’s in the third drawer.”

Harry moves out of the kitchen with their bowls, making room for Louis to pull the corkscrew from the messy drawer - and he muses for a moment whether every single house has one of those because so far, in his 19 years of experience, the answer is yes - and uncorks the wine, bringing it over to the table and grinning when he sees Harry pulled his chair.

“A true gentleman,” Louis comments, sitting down and biting his lip with delight when Harry pushes his chair for him. “There might be hope for your table manners.”

“I try,” Harry replies, sitting down and pouring them both glasses of wine. He picks up his and smiles softly at Louis. “To a wonderful evening in excellent company?”

“To our first real date?” Louis offers hesitantly.

Harry frowns. “It’s not our first, it’s our second. Yesterday was our first.”

“It doesn’t really count.”

“I want to count it.”

It’s Louis’ turn to frown. “Well, I don’t,” he argues, amused.

Rolling his eyes, Harry clinks his glass against Louis’. “ _Whatever._ ” 

Louis lets out a giggle and drinks from his glass, watching Harry mirror him. He then takes a first spoonful of the soup and opens his eyes wide. “Wow!”

“You like it?”

“It’s really, really good.”

Harry smiles proudly. “I’ll tell my mum her recipe was a success.” He takes a sip of wine. “I hope Niall didn’t scare you too much.”

“No, but I learned a few things.” Louis drinks some of his wine for courage before continuing. If he doesn’t say it now, he’ll change his mind. “We’re not having sex tonight.”

“You and Niall? I would hope not,” Harry jokes, but he sounds uncertain.

“I’m a virgin, Harry.”

Harry nods, putting down his spoon. “I supposed you might be. I don’t care, you know. That’s not why I invited you here.”

“No, I know, it’s just... Niall said some things and I was afraid you would be disappointed,” Louis says slowly before finishing his glass of wine to hide his discomfort.

“He told you about the one night stands.” Harry sighs and rubs his eye a few times. “I don’t want that with you. I want it all, I want... it’s probably too early to say it and I’ll scare you away, but I want to be your boyfriend, Lou. That’s all I’ve wanted since I met you. That’s why I invited you.”

Louis looks up from his bowl, his eyes wide. He’s probably gaping, although he’s too in shock to be conscious of what his body is doing. “W—what?”

“I haven’t made it obvious enough, yet?” Harry is frowning, looking almost shy. “I know it’s early and we don’t really know each other, but you’re all I’ve been able to think about since we met. And I’m pretty sure you like me, too, so it doesn’t have to be complicated, you know? I don’t want to shuffle around you for weeks when I already know what I want.” 

Louis takes a shaky breath, his head reeling as he processes Harry’s words. It goes against everything he thought he knew about dating; he expected at least three more dates before the B-word was uttered. Hearing it less than an hour into their second date took him off guards, honestly, and he doesn’t know how to react. Well, yes, he knows that he wants this, but Harry is right: it is early.

“We haven’t even kissed, yet,” Louis finally says, pushing his spoon around his bowl. He doesn’t add that Harry might change his mind once he kisses Louis and sees he’s terrible.

“Our first kiss will come later tonight, if you want to, or it could be weeks from now. We’re doing this out of order, but I just wanted to be clear on this. You don’t have to say yes. I only wanted you to know what I have in mind so you can relax. I didn’t lure you into a trap to lock you in my room and turn you into a sex slave. I’m trying to woo you.”

Louis puts his hand over his mouth as he starts giggling and blushing at the mention of a sex slave, his nerves finally giving in after the stress of the past week. “A sex slave?” he squeaks, breathless.

“Of my entire heartfelt speech, _this_ is what you paid attention to?”

“I’m sorry, it’s nervous laughter,” Louis says, wiping his eyes under his glasses. He clears his throat once he’s calmed down. “Alright, I’ll try to relax now that I’ve seen the inside of your heart, Haz.”

Harry brightens up at the name and resumes eating his soup, only taking one spoonful before placing his hand on the table, palm up. An invitation. Louis puts his hand in his and ducks his head with a smile when Harry squeezes it.

The soup gives way to lasagne, which Louis gushes over just for the pleasure of seeing Harry smile so wide his eyes crinkle. Louis teases him about his table manners, although he is relieved to see that Harry was intentionally being terrible the day before. He mentions it while Harry is bringing their empty plates to the kitchen.

“I was trying to make you laugh, yeah. I love your laugh.”

Louis groans and lets his forehead fall against the table. “Stop complimenting me.”

“Never.” Louis looks up and sees that Harry is grinning at him, looking proud of himself. “Have you got room left for cake?”

“There is always room for cake. I store it all in my bum.”

“I love your bu—”

“Don’t say it!” Louis says in a rush, laughing when Harry sticks out his tongue at him. “But thank you.”

Harry hums in reply and then walks out of the kitchen, walking backwards to hide what he’s holding from Louis’ view. He places the cake on the table with a flourish, smiling brightly.

“I hope you like cheesecake.”

“I _love_ cheesecake,” Louis replies, licking his lips in anticipation. “You’ll have to give me the address of the bakery where you got it, it looks sinful.”

Sitting down, Harry visibly preens. “I made it myself, actually.”

“From scratch?”

“From scratch.”

Louis lets out a low whistle, his mouth watering as Harry places a slice on his plate. He takes a first bite and lets out a groan, his eyes rolling back. He’ll worry about blushing for the noise he made later, because for now he’s got a cake to eat. Possibly the best cake he’s ever had. He’ll also worry about the way Harry looks at him when he’s done inhaling his dessert. He has other things to think about than how Harry has his hand under his chin and looks at Louis with soft eyes.

Eating with appetite, Louis finishes the slice in a few minutes, licking his spoon clean before letting out a satisfied sigh. “It was incredible. Best cake I’ve had. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. You can take the leftovers home, if you want.”

“That’s a good idea, it’ll make me think of you,” Louis says, his heart hammering in his chest because Harry is still looking at him like he—well, like he might kiss Louis.

Harry’s lips stretch into a smile and he leans forward. Louis braces himself for what comes next, holding his breath and fluttering his eyes shut, waiting and waiting and…waiting? 

He opens his eyes only to find an empty seat in front of him. Blinking a few times, Louis blushes as he realises Harry leaned closer to pick up his empty plate. He moved to the kitchen while Louis made himself look like an idiot and he smiles when Louis looks over.

“You can move to the living room, if you wish, I thought we might watch a movie? You can pick one, they’re by the telly.”

Listening to the sounds of Harry doing the dishes, Louis walks over to the television and kneels by it to sift through the pile of DVDs. He smiles at some of the titles, feeling like he can already tell which are Niall’s and which are Harry’s. The romantic comedies have to be Harry’s; he can hardly imagine Niall curled up in front of _P.S. I Love You_. 

“I don’t know what to pick,” Louis says, smiling when Harry crouches next to him a few minutes later. “All you’ve got is either sad or full of explosions.”

“What’s so bad about sad? Sad is a part of life, Lou.”

With a laugh, Louis shakes his head. “Look at you, trying to be philosophical.”

Harry shoves Louis’ shoulder, laughing. “Just trying to keep up with you, Oxford boy.”

Louis snorts. “I got in thanks to money, not my brains.”

“I’m sure you’re only being modest.” Harry pulls a movie out of the pile, handing it to Louis. “This one’s my favourite.”

 _Love Actually_. Louis’ heart swells and he smiles at Harry, feeling like Harry just revealed a very big part of him.

“We can watch it, if you want. Even if we’re in July.”

Harry cheers and gets up, rushing to set up the movie before joining Louis on the couch, getting comfortable in the corner of it. He then opens his arms and looks at Louis expectantly, and Louis’ heart speeds up once more.

“Cuddles?” Harry asks, all wide eyes and pouting lips.

Louis scoots over, curling up against Harry’s side. His breath hitches as Harry wraps his arms around him and kisses his forehead. Harry must have felt it because he strokes Louis’ arm slowly, comfortingly, and he smile when Louis looks up at him. Louis rubs his cheek against Harry’s shirt as he gets more comfortable, watching the movie for a moment before he has to comment.

“Your shirt is really soft.” He rubs the fabric through his fingers, recognizing it at once. “Burberry?”

“Do I look like I can afford Burberry?” Harry asks. 

“Oh,” Louis lets out, embarrassed. “I’m a posh gay boy, you’d think I’d be able to tell rip-offs from the real thing. It’s embarrassing.”

Harry chuckles and holds him tighter. Louis lets out a small sigh and settles against Harry, feeling his warm skin through the fabric of his shirt. It makes him smile and curl closer. Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and bites his lip when he hums happily and kisses Louis’ temple.

Halfway through the movie, Louis becomes restless. Spending the past hour wondering whether Harry was going to kiss him set his nerves on edge, his heartbeat picking up every time Harry shifted. He then began trying to figure out which part of the movie would be the most romantic as the background for a first kiss, but between Martin Freeman’s uncomfortable semi-sex scenes and Bill Nighy’s face, he can’t figure it out and Harry doesn’t look like he has any intention to kiss Louis any time soon.

He wants it. He wasn’t sure when he got here, but after the conversation they had during dinner and how comfortable and at ease he feels curled up into Harry’s side, all he wants is to feel Harry’s lips on his, to have Harry’s large hands hold his jaw as he kisses him senseless. He’s squirming from it, paying more attention to every shift of Harry’s muscles rather than the movie. He doesn’t even care anymore that he’s going to be a terrible kisser.

Louis glances up at Harry, finding him enthralled by the movie and catching him chuckling at a funny part, his eyes lighting up as he does and dimples appearing on his cheeks. Louis swallows and pushes at one with his finger, sticking out his tongue when Harry looks down at him. Harry sticks his own out in return, which makes Louis laugh.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Nothing,” Louis replies, surprised by how playful it comes out.

“No, tell me.” 

“I swear, there’s nothing. I was just looking at you.”

“Just looking at me for no reason, really? You had nothing at all in mind?”

Louis bites his lip and he doesn’t miss Harry’s eyes flicking down. “No, nothing at all.”

Harry hums. “I sent you the flowers, but you asked me out first. Then I asked you out again so, unless I’m mistaken, it’s your move.”

Right on cue, Louis’ heart speeds up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Shaking his head, Harry smiles. “I’m not going to do it. It’s all on you.”

Louis swallows with difficulty, his throat dry and closing up due to nerves. He shifts closer, pushing himself up with a hand against Harry’s stomach – he files away for later the fact that Harry’s stomach isn’t as hard as he’d expected it to be – and lets out a nervous laugh. He’s about to kiss Harry. It’ll happen any second now, all he needs to do is close the distance between their lips and then he’ll have kissed the single most attractive man he’s ever met.

Taking a deep breath, Louis does it: he leans up and closer, one hand on Harry’s chest for balance, and presses his lips to Harry’s. He does it only briefly, barely applying any pressure, but it’s enough to make Harry hum and move one hand down to spread it on Louis’ back and hold him close as he kisses him fully. Louis lets out a quiet noise from the back of his throat and kisses back, curling his fingers in Harry’s shirt when he starts reeling from the kiss, his mind disconnecting and his instincts taking over, making him move closer against Harry, shifting so that he can kneel on the couch. Harry’s other hand leaves Louis’ back to rest on his jaw and Louis keens against Harry’s lips, the sound turning into a surprised moan when he feels Harry start licking into his mouth.

Louis pulls back, breathing hard and cheeks on fire. The sound their lips make as they part make him gasp and he dives back in, holding Harry’s head between his hands and repeatedly planting kisses on Harry’s lips until he feels Harry kissing back with more insistence, slowing down Louis’ rapid pace to turn it into a slow rhythm of kisses that make Louis’ head spin. Harry starts again with his tongue and this time Louis parts his lips, letting out a moan when he feels Harry’s warm, silky tongue dart inside his mouth.

Louis moves his hands to Harry’s hair, sinking his fingers through the thick curls and pulling at them, smiling when Harry lets out a noise of surprise. Encouraged by it, Louis tries to move even closer, realising that he’d need to climb into Harry’s lap to achieve it. Before he can change his mind, Louis does it as deftly as he can without breaking the kiss, settling over Harry’s thighs, his knees sinking in the couch on either side of Harry’s legs. Without missing a beat, Harry grips Louis’ hips and lets Louis dip his head back to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth with a hum when Louis tentatively licks into it.

It’s only when Louis’ hips push forwards against Harry’s that he breaks the kiss and sits back on his haunches. He runs his hands down his face and then looks at Harry, amazed by how red and shiny his lips are. He wonders idly whether his own look like this.

“Are you sure this was your first kiss?” Harry asks, licking his lips. His voice is deeper than usual, and rougher, sending sparks down Louis’ spine.

Louis shakes his head. “I made out with my mate Zayn. We were drunk, though. I wasn’t terrible, then?”

Harry strokes Louis’ hips slowly, a lazy smile stretching on his lips. “Not terrible at all. You were actually pretty good.” Moving forward, Harry steals a quick kiss. “I was pleasantly surprised.”

Louis smiles brightly and gets ready to lean in for yet another kiss when he realises with a grunt that they just had their first kiss with “Christmas is All Around” playing in the background. He can’t hold back his laughter at that and he presses his face into Harry’s neck, thinking idly that Harry smells intoxicatingly good.

“What is it?” Harry asks, stroking up and down Louis’ back with the tip of his fingers. Louis shivers pleasantly at the feeling.

“The song. That bloody awful song from the movie. That’s what we had our first kiss to.”

Harry lets out a surprised laugh. “Did we? Shit. That’s not good, is it? That’s a terrible story to tell.”

“Or an excellent one. Depends how you look at it.”

Harry laughs even more, full and unrestrained, and Louis envies him his comfort because he’s slowly regaining consciousness of his body and he’s realising with panic and terror that he’s basically sitting in Harry’s lap, their crotches mere inches from each other. His breath hitches and he startles when Harry kisses him again, just a slow, brief press of his lips that make Louis sigh.

“I like kissing you, love. I could do it all evening.”

Louis bites his lip, smiling. “We could,” he replies simply, feeling brazen and courageous for once in his life.

Almost instantly, Harry fumbles around for the remote and switches the television off when he finds it. “Can I offer, without any hidden agenda, to move to my room? It’d be more comfortable, is all.”

Louis swallows, looking at Harry without saying a word for a moment. In terms of physical comfort, yes, without a doubt, a bed would be better than this beat up couch. But it’d be a _bed_ , and the connotations that come with it are enough to make Louis sick with anxiety. And yet, Harry looks so genuinely without any second thoughts that Louis finds himself nodding and smiling.

His smile fades rapidly when Harry grabs him under the thighs and lifts him up. Louis lets out a yelp and wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, his legs wrapping tightly around his waist. He buries his face in Harry’s neck and giggles, clinging to him as Harry carries him to his bedroom. It makes his head spin and his heart flutter to see how easily Harry holds him up, carrying him like Louis weighs nothing. 

“Hold on tight, I’ve got to open the door,” Harry says and Louis obliges, clinging even more to Harry, risking a kiss to his neck and smiling when Harry hums happily and walks them into his room, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

He puts Louis down on his bed carefully and quickly toes off his shoes before climbing on it and crawling to sit against his pillows. Louis ignores him for a moment, taking a few seconds to look around the small room. Tour posters of bands he doesn’t know cover the white walls and grass green curtains hang in front of the window. A pile of neatly folded clothes stands in a corner, made of the plaid shirts Louis loves so much, but also of soft cotton shirts in myriad colours and trousers in various shades. The entire room smells like Harry does and Louis feels safe in it, almost cradled, by the bare room, the only furniture being the bed and a nightstand on the right side of it. A pile of books replaces the other nightstand and a cactus has been precariously balanced on it.

At last, Louis turns to Harry and he can’t hold back a shy smile to see him patiently waiting for him, comfortably resting against the headboard. Harry beckons Louis closer with his finger and Louis makes quick work of taking off his shoes before crawling up the bed on all fours and sitting down next to Harry, fumbling with a pillow behind his back until he’s comfortable.

“I’m sorry it’s a mess in here,” Harry says in a low voice, scooting closer and ghosting his lips over Louis’ cheek. He shivers and closes his eyes. “But I didn’t think you’d be seeing it.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” Louis replies, turning on his side to face Harry and smiling when he does the same. He reaches up and pushes a few curls behind Harry’s ear.

“No, usually we talk a lot less.” Harry presses a kiss to Louis’ lips. “But I don’t want to talk about anyone else right now.”

Harry only turned on the bedside lamp and it casts a golden light in the room, making the scene more intimate than Louis feels it might have been with the bright overhead halogens. From this close, Louis can see the shadow of Harry’s facial hair and he runs the back of his fingers against his cheek, watching Harry’s lips stretch into a lazy, happy smile.

“You only want to talk about your boyfriend, then?” Louis asks, keeping his voice light despite the way his stomach is churning and his heart is hammering from what he just said.

Harry giggles and nods, leaning in to kiss Louis, pressing hard and long against his lips. Louis follows his mouth involuntarily when he pulls back, biting his lip when it makes Harry chuckle.

“Can you blame me? My boyfriend is amazing.” Harry runs a hand down Louis’ side and over the curve of his hip.

“I’m sure I would love to hear all about him some other time, but right now I think you should kiss me.”

Louis has no idea where he got the courage to say something like this, but it must be the right thing to say because Harry moves closer and kisses him fully, cradling Louis’ face in his hand. He lets Harry lead the kiss, rolling on his back and keening when Harry follows, holding himself up over Louis with his forearm planted in the mattress, his other hand moving up to Louis’ hair. Harry settles on top of him, their chests pressed together, and Louis can’t hold back a moan at the feeling of Harry’s weight. Harry takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into Louis’ mouth, rubbing it against Louis’ and exploring his mouth, and all Louis can do is grip Harry’s shirt tightly and force his lungs to work normally.

With Harry on top of him and his smell everywhere, it’s only a matter of minutes before Louis is squirming against the tightness in his trousers and clawing at Harry’s shirt to pull him off, to break the kiss before he finds himself unable to stop.

“Wait, wait,” Louis pants, moving back and away from Harry. “I need a few minutes.”

Obligingly, Harry rolls off to lie on his back, leaving space between them, and Louis feels a wave of gratefulness rise in him that Harry would think about Louis’ comfort before his own pleasure.

“Thank you,” Louis says, turning his head to smile at Harry.

Harry shrugs. “I needed it, too. It was getting pretty steamy.” He turns to lie on his side, pillowing his head with his arm, and gives Louis a lopsided grin. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad you invited me. Even if I almost didn’t come.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Really? Why?”

“Hum, we’ve had this conversation before, but you’re you and I’m me.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean by that,” Harry says softly, reaching forward to smooth down Louis’ fringe.

“I mean that…” Louis closes his eyes and groans, feeling like whatever he might tell Harry would sound foolish, even though it’s constantly gnawing at his sanity. “I just don’t know… why me? You could have anyone and it’s me that you chose. I don’t understand why.”

From Louis’ hair, Harry moves his hand down to his arm, stroking it softly. “Do I need a reason? I just think you’re fascinating. You make me laugh, you’re beautiful, you’re—” Louis snorts, interrupting Harry. He frowns. “You don’t believe me?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, you are.” Harry kisses Louis’ nose and he giggles, blushing. “You’re beautiful, I’ve thought so since I first saw you. And you’re adorable when you blush.”

“But you barely know me.”

“And you barely know me, too, but that doesn’t stop you from liking me, does it?”

“No, but I’m not… I’ve got nothing to offer.”

“That’s for me to decide, sunshine.” Harry pecks his nose again, stroking his cheek with his knuckles.

Louis sighs and nods. He’s not convinced and he knows that he needs to start bracing himself for the moment when Harry gets tired of him and breaks up, but he’s willing to let himself enjoy it while he can, as self-destructive as it might turn out to be.

“Sunshine, I like that,” he says instead of protesting once more.

“Yeah? That’ll be your name, then. You’ll be my sunshine.” Harry strokes Louis’ cheekbone with his thumb and Louis smiles, turning his head to kiss the palm of his hand. He scoots closer to press a soft kiss to Louis’ lips and Louis kisses back eagerly, smiling even wider when Harry pulls back.

Stroking a hand down Harry’s chest, Louis lets out a laugh. “It’s so weird, with your shirt like that, it’s like you’ve got no tattoos.” Glancing at Harry coyly, he adds: “You almost look like a respectable person.”

With a surprised laugh, Harry looks at Louis with wide eyes. “I don’t know if I should be insulted.”

Louis shakes his head. “Don’t be. I don’t want respectable. If I wanted respectable, I’d date, like, Liam.”

“Country Club Liam?”

“That Liam, yes.”

“So, you prefer bad boys, then?” Harry asks, moving his hand slowly down Louis’ chest, fingernails scratching at the fabric of his shirt. “With tattoos and stuff?”

“Don’t laugh, it’s working to your advantage.”

“Yeah, see, the thing is, I call my mum every day, I help little old ladies to cross the street and I cry when I see kittens. I’m really not a bad boy, love. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

Louis bites his lip against what he almost said, _I could never be_ , and shakes his head, fiddling with the collar of Harry’s shirt. “And the tattoos?”

“Simply an artistic expression of my innermost thoughts,” Harry replies flippantly.

“I told you philosophy wasn’t your forte,” Louis replies, moving his fingers to the top button of Harry’s shirt. “Can I see them?”

“You already want me shirtless, Louis? I don’t know if I should comply, it’s only our second date,” Harry replies playfully, already unbuttoning his shirt.

Licking his lips, Louis watches Harry undo his shirt before sitting up to shrug it off. He sits back against the headboard and gives Louis an encouraging smile.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Harry says fondly.

“You do enjoy being shirtless,” Louis replies, moving closer and touching the butterfly tattooed in the middle of Harry’s chest with the tip of his index finger. He traces the outlines of it, smiling to himself when he sees Harry’s chest stutter as he inhales.

“Clothes are tyrannical and I don’t like them.” Harry breathes in deeply as Louis moves his attention to the laurels over his hipbones, stroking them lightly. “Besides, I noticed you were paying more attention to me when I was half-naked. I liked it.”

 _Cosmo_ would probably tell Louis to deny that he enjoyed looking at Harry walking around his garden shirtless to keep him guessing and interested, but it’s hard for Louis to imagine that Harry could lose his interest in Louis, not when his eyes are riveted on him and he responds to every brush of Louis’ fingers on his skin.

“You did it for me?” he asks instead, abandoning the laurels – it’s dangerous territory, too close to Harry’s crotch and he’s pretty sure he saw his cock twitch through his jeans, he needs to get away from there quick – to lightly touch the swallows underneath Harry’s collarbone, bending down to press a brief kiss to one of them. “Really?”

“Again with the disbelief that I might be interested in you! Do you honestly think I’d have kept this job if it didn’t mean I’d get to see you every day? It was really hard when you were avoiding me, I had no reason to come into work in the morning because I didn’t get to see you.”

Louis bites his lip, shocked and rendered breathless by the honest confession. Harry has to be the single most earnest person Louis have ever met and, compared to the hypocrisy and lies he’s used to, it takes him off guards. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to reply. Should he smile and laugh? Apologise for having avoided Harry because he was too shy to even be seen by him? Kiss Harry until they both run out of air?

He chooses the latter, stroking Harry’s cheek with his knuckles like he’s done to Louis’ earlier and leaning in for a kiss, letting out a gasp of surprise when Harry nibbles his bottom lip.

“Always biting your lip, always blushing, cute little shy Louis,” Harry mutters against Louis’ lips, putting a hand on the back of Louis’ neck to keep him in place as he deepens the kiss.

Louis doesn’t know for how long they kiss, his entire world reduced to Harry’s lips and Harry’s body and Harry’s warmth and softness and, although he tries not to pay attention to it, Harry’s hardening cock against his hip. He can’t let himself think about it, can’t even acknowledge it, because the idea that he’s done that to a boy would be enough to make him come in his pants and embarrass himself forever. The kind of embarrassment that requires moving to a new country and getting a new identity. He’d have to become French because it’s the only foreign language he speaks and he really wouldn’t like having to be called Marcel or, like, Jean-Baptiste for the rest of his life; even if, technically, his name is sort of French, he wouldn’t be able to keep it because that’s the whole point of getting a new identity and—and Harry has stopped kissing him.

He blinks at Harry and refrains from biting his lip at the last second. “Something wrong?” 

“You weren’t there anymore, were you? What were you thinking about?” Harry’s eyes are heavy-lidded and his lips are stretched into a lazy smile, red and swollen and shining with their saliva.

Louis swallows. “It’s getting late,” is what he replies because it is getting late, nearing on ten and he feels giddy at the thought that they’ve spent the best part of the last hour snogging.

Harry shrugs. “Do you want to sleep over?” At Louis’ gasp, he’s quick to add: “I’ll sleep on the couch. Honestly, I just want to spend more time with you. I don’t want the evening to end just yet.”

Again with the earnest, heartfelt confession. Louis finds himself smiling against his will, against the hammering of his heart in his chest. “I don’t have any pyjamas.” 

“I can lend you some,” Harry replies in a rush, sitting up. “You’ll see, my bed’s really comfortable despite its shit appearance.” He gets up and stretches, his back to Louis, and Louis stares, mouth gaping, because _shit_.

He got that. Louis managed, through forces unknown and unexplainable, to get a man with a body like Harry’s to let him touch him, to let him kiss him and to somehow interest him enough to be invited to stay the night. Feeling all warm and tingly inside at the thought, Louis brings up his knees and wraps his arms around them.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” he says, feeling proud that his voice came out steady.

Harry, who was crouching in the corner rummaging through the pile of clothes – Louis realises then that he has no dresser or closet in which to put them – turns around to look at Louis, his eyes bright and happy. 

“I don’t?”

“No. I trust you.” Encouraged by Harry’s smile, he adds: “And I’ve always wondered what it felt like to spoon.”

Pulling two shirts and as many pairs of pyjama trousers from the pile, Harry comes back to the bed. “It feels awesome.” Handing Louis the clothes, he then pulls on the shirt. “Big or small spoon?”

Louis picks up the clothes and hugs them to his chest, watching Harry change until he undoes his trousers and then pointedly looking away. “I don’t know. Small? I’ll—I’ll go change in the bathroom.”

“As you wish. I’ll wait for you right here,” Harry replies, getting settled in the bed. 

Louis leaves the room quickly and locks himself in the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face as soon as the door is shut. He sees that his hands are shaking and he sighs, running them down his face before looking at himself in the mirror. He’s a mess: his hair’s tousled, his lips are swollen, his eyes shine in a way that he’s never seen them shine, and he’s not even going to mention the colour of his cheeks. He resists the urge of looking through the cabinets out of sheer curiosity and changes rapidly, ignoring the tightness in his pants before going back to Harry’s room. He has to be careful as he walks out of the bathroom because the trousers are too long on him, forcing him to hoist them up so he doesn’t trip and fall on his face in the middle of the hallway. 

Harry is on his computer, but he closes the lid and puts it on his floor as soon as Louis comes in and shuts the door behind him. “I was on Facebook,” he explains when Louis climbs into bed next to him. “Which made me realise you still haven’t added me, boyfriend.”

“I’ve got my family on there,” Louis replies, sliding under the duvet and avoiding Harry’s eyes. He feels like shit that he won’t be able to broadcast his relationship – he’s in a relationship! – for the world to see because, well, the world doesn’t know that Louis Tomlinson loves boys. “I’m sorry, it’s just—I’m not out? Not to my family.”

Harry shrugs, once again smiling pleasantly. “That’s quite alright. It’s just a daft website, isn’t it?

Louis nods and slips down, resting his head against the pillow and wincing at how soft the mattress is. His back will kill him in the morning. Harry does the same, rolling on his side and pushing and pulling at Louis until his back is against Harry’s chest. Louis lets Harry move him around, giggling and enjoying the ease with which Harry puts him where he wants him far too much. 

Once they’re settled, with Harry’s warm breath against his neck and his arm heavy over his waist, Louis can’t hold back a laugh. “Are we really going to bed at half past ten?”

“I’ve been up since five this morning. Yes, we are,” Harry replies in a tone you’d expect from a stubborn child.

Louis laughs even more. “You’ve got the sleep rhythm of an old spinster.” 

“That, or it takes me forever to get to your house.”

“It took an hour by cabbie,” Louis comments.

“I hope you don’t call yourself a Londoner because you’re far from it, love. An hour and a half long commute far from it, to be precise.”

“Like you can talk, Cheshire.”

Harry laughs and kisses the nape of Louis’ neck. “Alright, on this point you beat me because you don’t sound like a Yorkshire boy, but I know I sound Northern.” 

“It’s only because my step-father prefers that we sound posh.”

“So, if I asked, you could sound like a proper Northern boy?”

Louis cranes his neck to look at Harry and he laughs when he sees the wide-eyed smile he’s giving him. “Why does it matter so much to you how I sound?” he asks, slipping into his natural accent, both loving and hating the way it feels so much more comfortable to speak that way.

Harry’s eyes light up and he leans in to kiss Louis. “Gorgeous. Thank you. Now I don’t feel like I’ve got a BBC anchor in my bed.”

Louis elbows him in the stomach. “What happened to trying to woo me?” he asks, keeping his normal accent just to see how pleased Harry looks to hear it. 

“I think I succeeded, didn’t I? You’re spending the night in my bed.”

“Don’t make me change my mind about it,” Louis replies, moving closer to Harry and smiling when he feels his arm tighten around him.

The shirt he’s wearing smells like Harry, so does the pillow under his head and the duvet he’s pulled up to his chin against the cold night breeze coming in from the wide-open window. Harry is warm and solid against his back, making Louis feel surrounded and loved. He swallows and turns his head once more to look at Harry. 

“What is it, sunshine?” Harry asks, rubbing his nose against Louis’ cheek. 

“I—” _love you_ , he was about to say, but the words got caught in his throat. Instead, he coughs and says the first thing that comes to his mind: “I want cake.” 

Harry stays silent for a moment, looking at Louis with furrowed brows. At last, when Louis feels like he’s about to worry himself into another plane of existence, Harry smiles. “I want cake, too.”

Nodding and kissing Harry to hide how flustered he is, Louis sighs and turns back, hoping against hope that he might be able to sleep despite the way he’s already overanalysing Harry’s reply to try and figure out if he meant the same thing as Louis. Probably not. He’s surely only hungry, there’s no way he figured out that by ‘I want cake’, Louis meant ‘I am madly in love with you and it scares me to death.’

Harry begins stroking Louis’ tummy and he tenses for a second before relaxing again, choosing to trust Harry even though he is touching the part of his body he hates the most.

“Goodnight, sunshine. Sleep tight.”

Louis chuckles. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite?”

“I don’t have bed bugs, don’t worry. We’re minimally clean.”

Louis’ eyes widen. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to say that I think you’re not clean, I just—” 

“I know, love. I know. Go to sleep.” Louis feels Harry shift away and he tries to follow until he hears the bedside lamp click shut. Harry is back seconds later, holding him close and rubbing his tummy comfortingly like before. “I’ll make you pancakes in the morning.”

With a smile, Louis yawns, feeling sleepier by the second. “You’re spoiling me. I’d have been happy finishing the cake.”

“Whatever you want, sunshine. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Hazza,” Louis replies, letting the slow motions of Harry’s hand lull him to sleep.

\---

Louis wakes up alone and for a second he panics, having no idea where he is. Opening his eyes, he sees a sad little cactus and remembers that he spent the night at Harry’s, and then he grins because _he spent the night at Harry’s_. Turning his head into the pillow, Louis breathes in Harry’s smell before rolling on his back and stretching, taking up all of the bed for a second and wincing as pain shoots through his lower back. He knew the mattress would ruin it. Harry’s side is cold and from the noises that drift into the bedroom from the kitchen, he’s been up and preparing breakfast for a while already. Louis gets up and pads out of the room, dragging his feet to avoid tripping over the hem of the trousers and rubbing his eye sleepily.

Harry is standing behind the stove when he gets in, cooking pancakes while discussing with Niall who’s sprawled on the couch, a bowl of cereal balanced on his stomach and his feet up on the coffee table.

“I’m just saying,” Niall is saying, “I don’t believe you one bit.”

“We didn’t have sex, Niall. Don’t you fucking ask him if we did when he’s awake. It was already hard enough to fix the mess you’d made when you told him about the one night stands.”

“Shit, Haz, are you in love or something?” Niall asks, mouth full of cereals.

They don’t know Louis’ there and he feels like shit for eavesdropping, but he is not a good enough person not to. Not when they’re talking about him. He can’t be blamed for being curious, can he?

“What’s it to you?” Harry flips a pancake and it sizzles in the pan, its rich smell filling the kitchen. Louis’ stomach grumbles. “I thought you’d be happy that I’ve finally got a shot at a steady, normal relationship, not that you’d take the piss.” 

“I am happy. I’m sorry. I love you.”

Harry groans. “You’re still not getting any pancakes.”

It’s Niall’s turn to groan. Louis’ guilt for eavesdropping finally overpowers his curiosity and he walks into view.

“You’re awake!” Harry says brightly, leaving the stove to come and give Louis a bone-crushing hug. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Good morning. I told you not to make me pancakes,” he says with a smile.

“Can I have his, then?” Niall asks.

“Let me spoil you a bit, love,” Harry says, kissing Louis’ forehead before going back to the stove. “And no, Niall, you can’t. Make your own.”

Louis follows Harry in the kitchen, laughing as Niall protests loudly and pouts. Harry ignores him and continues preparing the pancakes. Louis watches him for a moment before pushing himself up to sit on the counter, returning the smile Harry gives him when he does.

“It’s almost ready,” Harry tells him, expertly flipping a pancake. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Yes, your bed was really comfortable,” Louis lies, crossing his ankles.

Harry beams at him before turning off the burner. “I just need to dress the table, now, it won’t be long.”

Louis catches Harry’s arm as he walks past him to hold him in place, uncrossing his legs to pull Harry between them and press a small kiss on his lips. Butterflies fill his stomach because he’s kissing Harry in broad daylight and it feels more real than it did the night before.

Harry returns it briefly and then pulls back, scrunching up his nose. “Morning breath kisses. Gross.”

Louis shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

Harry bops Louis’ nose with the tip of his finger. “Well, I do. We’ll find you a toothbrush before I snog you.”

Louis rolls his eyes for show before jumping off the counter and following Harry to the table, feeling useless as he watches him dress the table. 

“Can I help with anything?”

“No, it’s fine,” Harry says, smiling. “Oh, I meant to tell you, your mobile was buzzing earlier, I think you have a missed call.”

Louis’ stomach sinks as he remembers that he forgot to warn his mother he’d be spending the night out. He’s a dead man.

“Shit,” he says loudly, hurrying to Harry’s room, where he left his mobile. “My mum’s going to kill me.”

Pulling his mobile from the pocket of his jeans, Louis unlocks it and sees that he has six missed calls, all from his mother. At once, the bubble of happiness and carelessness he’d been in since the night before bursts, leaving him feeling terrified and nervous. His mother will be seething and, even if he’s 19, he’ll probably be grounded if she doesn’t send him to a reform school or have him assassinated. Delaying the call will only make things worse, he knows it and he knows his mother, so he dials her number and sits on the edge of the bed, gnawing his lip.

“Where the hell are you?” she says as soon as she picks up.

“I forgot to warn you that I was spending the night at Zayn’s,” he replies, consistent with his lie from the day before.

“Funny how Zayn’s mother says you haven’t been over for months. Where are you, Louis?”

Of course she’d call Zayn’s mother after Louis failed to answer, and like the moron he is, he forgot to warn Zayn that he was going to be his alibi because he didn’t think he’d need to.

“I, hum. I’m at Perrie’s?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but he’s painted himself in a corner and he honestly doesn’t know he’s going to get out of this without telling his mother the truth. He can’t tell her the truth. He just can’t. 

“I called her mum, too. Don’t make me ask you again.”

Looks like he’ll have to tell the truth, after all. He feels sick.

Louis lets out a shaky sigh and closes his eyes, rubbing at them with a shaky hand. “I don’t want to tell you on the phone,” he says in a small voice. “But I’ll tell you when I get home, I promise. Please don’t tell him I lied.”

His mother sighs. “Give me the address, I’ll send a car for you. And I’ll keep it between us if you promise to tell me the truth.”

“I will, I promise. And I promise I’ve been safe all along and that nothing bad happened. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Worrying about you is my job, Louis,” she says before hanging up.

Louis falls backwards on the bed, his arms spread out, and lets out a long sigh before curling up on his side, pressing his face into the mattress as he tries to take as little space as possible. He wraps his arms around his knees and doesn’t look up when he hears the door open then close softly. The mattress dips and then there’s a warm hand on his back, stroking it soothingly. 

“Are you alright?” Harry asks in a soft voice, pressing a kiss to Louis’ cheek. 

Louis shrugs and curls up even more, tucking in his chin and shutting his eyes tightly. “My mum knows I wasn’t at Zayn’s or Perrie’s tonight. I’ll have to tell her about us.”

“Oh,” is all Harry says and Louis opens his eyes to see him gnawing at his lip, a frown on his face. “Does she know you’re gay?”

Louis shakes his head. “No. I reckon she suspects it, though, but I never told her I was.”

“Do you think she’ll mind?”

“No, I don’t think so, but if I tell her, or anyone in my family, there’s a chance the wanker might find out and that would be—” Louis shudders just to think about it. “That’d be a really, really bad thing.”

“It figures he’s a homophobe on top of the rest,” Harry mutters, adding scratches to his soothing strokes and making Louis shiver. “But I’m sure your mum would keep it a secret if you asked her to. She seems like a good person.” 

“She is,” Louis replies in a small voice, closing his eyes once more. “How did your mum react when she found out about you?”

“She was shocked for a bit, but then it wasn’t a big deal anymore. It took a while before she was comfortable whenever I talked about boys, but like... I came out ten years ago. Things have changed, since. It’s like, I don’t know, more present? People talk about it more and it’s mostly positive stuff. I’m sure your mum won’t mind and she’ll love you all the same.”

“She might not like that I’m dating you, though.”

“Because I’m staff?”

“And six years older.” Louis opens his eyes and turns his head so he can look Harry straight in the eyes. “I don’t mind that you’re either of those things and I’ll—” He was about to say I’ll fight for us, but he realised it might be a bit too much and let the words die in his throat. “I’ll try to make her see that we’re not a bad thing.”

“Of course, we’re not. We’re a brilliant thing.” Harry kisses his cheek. “She’s your mother. She’ll love you no matter what.”

Louis smiles at that, feeling a bit better than before. Harry makes everything sound easy and possible, against Louis’ experience that everything really isn’t easy and possible. Things are messy and they hurt and people aren’t reliable. They always end up leaving you, no matter how much you’d want them to stay. Them being a parent doesn’t make you any safer. Parents, too, stop loving their children and leave. Louis would know. He wraps his arms around himself tighter and sighs.

“Hold me, please,” he hears himself say in a whisper. He doesn’t expect Harry to have heard, but the older man wraps himself around Louis, almost crushing him under his weight, and Louis relaxes slightly under the warmth and weight of Harry’s body.

“You’ll be fine, baby,” Harry whispers, rubbing his nose through Louis’ hair. “I know it’s scary. It’s the scariest thing you’ll ever do. But it’ll be worth it, in the end. You’ll be able to be yourself around her. No more lies.”

“No more lies,” Louis repeats, wishing he could bring Harry along for moral support. 

“And if it goes bad, try crying. Mothers can’t stand seeing their children crying. It’s a failsafe trick.”

Louis laughs and then sighs, craning his neck to kiss Harry’s jaw. “I want cake,” he whispers, biting his lip nervously, thinking _I love you I love you I love you_.

“But I made pancakes!” Harry replies, laughing. “I want cake, too. But first, pancakes.” 

“I’m not really hungry. I feel like I’m going to throw up. Sorry,” Louis tells him sheepishly, feeling even more terrible now that he knows Harry spent a long time cooking for nothing.

“You just made Niall very happy,” is all Harry replies before holding Louis even tighter. “You can call me whenever you need to, you know that, right? I’ll always pick up for you, no matter what I’m doing. We’ve gone really quickly into a relationship and I just want to make sure you know you can rely on me for anything, no matter how silly it is. I’m there for you, sunshine.” 

“I know.” Louis swallows around the knot in his throat. “If you think it’s been too fast and you want to back out, you can. I won’t—it’s okay.”

He feels how vigorously Harry shakes his head through the way his nose rubs into his hair and it makes him smile. “I’m not backing out. Are you?”

“No,” Louis replies without hesitating. “Even if it’s been quick.”

“I was eager to claim you as mine, sorry,” Harry says with a kiss to the back of Louis’ neck. “Couldn’t risk losing you to someone else.”

Louis bites his lip against a giddy smile. “I don’t get it.”

“Well, I do and that’s what matters.” Harry plants a kiss on the back of Louis’ neck and he tries to squirm away, tickled. Harry only holds him tighter, wrapping his leg over Louis to get closer.

“You’re really cuddly,” Louis comments. He’s unable to get into the same mood as Harry and he feels terrible for it.

“Can’t help it, you’re too cute.”

Louis rolls his eyes and disentangles himself from Harry’s grip to sit up and smooth down his hair. “I should get dressed, my mum sent a car to pick me up. It’ll be here soon.”

Harry takes his hand and squeezes it. “You’ll be okay. I’m sure of it.” 

With a tight smile, Louis squeezes his hand back then gets up and picks up his clothes from where he left them on the floor to go change in the bathroom. Once there, he splashes water on his face and avoids looking at himself in the mirror, sure that he’ll burst into tears if he meets his eyes and sees how panicked he must look. There’s a weight in his stomach that makes him feel like he’s about to throw up and it’s like he can’t quite breathe right from the pressure on his chest. His hands shake as he gets dressed, squirming into his tight jeans and putting on his shirt from the night before. Neatly folding the pyjamas Harry lent him, he leaves the bathroom and goes back to Harry’s room, placing the clothes on the bed and avoiding Harry’s eyes.

Harry gets up and pulls Louis into a hug, rubbing his back and kissing his forehead. “You’ll be fine, sunshine.”

“I’m scared,” Louis says, voice strangled by the knot in his throat. 

“I know. I was, too. It’s normal. But you don’t have to worry. She’ll still love you.” 

Louis holds Harry’s waist tightly and presses his face against Harry’s chest, nodding. He wishes he could stay like this, in Harry’s arms, forever, but he knows that any minute now the doorbell will ring and he’ll have to get back home and face the single most terrifying thing he’s ever had to do. Objectively, he knows his mother will be fine with it; she constantly talks about that one former co-worker of hers who was gay and a complete sweetheart and she doesn’t mind seeing gay couples holding hands or kissing in public. She’s not a homophobe, Louis knows it very well, but it’ll still change the way she looks at him and the thought petrifies him with fear. Passing as straight is safe and doesn’t draw attention, but as soon as he comes out, he’ll be Gay Louis, the talk of the season and a reason for people to look at his mother with contrition and whispered ‘is he really?’ in between glasses of mimosas at charity brunches. He doesn’t want that, doesn’t want to draw attention to himself and he especially doesn’t want to disappoint his mother.

Louis holds Harry even tighter and Harry begins stroking his back once more, his steady, slow breathing and the beating of his heart soothing Louis, if only slightly. Harry is warm and solid against him and he doesn’t feel as lost when he’s being held by him, but he knows it’s only temporary relief. 

As if on cue, Niall quietly knocks at the door and opens it. “There’s a Mercedes waiting downstairs. I think it’s for Louis?” 

“Thanks, Niall,” Harry says, his voice rumbling through his ribcage against Louis’ ear. “Gather your stuff, I’ll go wrap the leftover cake for you, alright, sunshine?” 

Louis nods again and lets go of Harry, immediately feeling cold without his body heat. He sits on the edge of the bed to tie up his shoes before pocketing his mobile and joining Harry in the kitchen. He takes the plate Harry hands him and then waves Niall goodbye, his throat too constricted for words to come out. Harry accompanies him downstairs, a hand on the small of his back, and he opens the door of the car for him. Louis places the plate on the seat and then turns to look at Harry, squinting against the sun. 

“Call me when it’s over,” Harry says, kissing Louis’ forehead and stroking his hair. “Call me whenever you need to.” 

“I will,” Louis replies, voice distorted by his nerves. “Thanks for the meal and... and for everything. Thank you.” 

Harry smiles his dimpled smile and Louis gets on the tip of his toes to kiss it. “Don’t mention it. Will I see you again soon?” 

“Don’t you work tomorrow?” 

Placing his hands on Louis’ shoulders, Harry strokes his upper arms. “Yeah, but that doesn’t count. I don’t really see you when I work. I meant a date.” 

Louis can’t help but smile. “Dinner later this week?” 

“A proper date at last?” Harry asks, teasingly, and Louis is sure he’d appreciate Harry’s efforts to calm him down better if he weren’t feeling like he might die before he gets home. “I’d love to. We’ll talk about it on the phone later, yeah? Now I’ve got to let you go, even though it’s the last thing I want.” 

“I’m not that great to be around,” Louis says before he can stop it. He bites his lip. 

Harry rolls his eyes and kisses him, causing Louis to feel a rush of adrenaline course through his veins: he’s kissing a guy in the middle of a busy street. He feels deviant and daring and so very bold; it makes him tingle all over. 

“Go on, you’ve got to go.” Harry gently pushes him towards the car, kissing him all the while. “Call me when you can.” 

“I will, I promise. I—” Again, he almost lets out ‘I love you’ and bites his lip. “I want cake,” he says instead, squeezing Harry’s hands, hoping he understands what Louis means by that.

“It’s in the car.” Harry kisses him one last time. 

Well, clearly, he doesn’t.

Louis sits in the car and Harry shuts the door, laughing when Louis rolls down the window and pokes his head out. “I’ll call you soon.” 

“You better,” Harry says as the car starts driving away. “I already miss you!” he shouts and Louis giggles and blushes, buckling his seatbelt and rolling up the window, letting himself enjoy this final moment of bliss before he has to face his mother. 

His mother is waiting for him in the conservatory, as one of the twins tells him as soon as he gets home. Louis takes the time to go up to his room and change, not wanting her to see him in yesterday’s clothes, before he joins her. His legs feel like they’ve been filled with lead and his stomach is knotted in a way that’d earn him a scout badge of honour. He is so nervous that his fingers and arms feel numb and once he’s sat in a wicker chair facing the one his mother is in, he can’t remember how he got there. 

The table is set for tea and she’s gone as far as having a three-tiered tray taken out of the ‘special occasions’ cupboard. Louis crosses his legs and smiles at her nervously, not trusting himself to pick up his cup without dropping it. 

“So,” his mother says, looking at him above the rim of her cup. “Explanations, please.” 

It feels like the air has been punched out of his lungs and that the floor dropped from under his feet. Louis feels hot and cold at once and his head spins. He grips the armrests of the chair and takes in a shuddering breath, bowing his head. 

“Boo, what’s wrong? You look like you’re about to faint,” she continues. Louis hears her chair creak and when he looks up, she’s leaned forward, a look of concern on her face. 

“Mum,” he begins, his voice raspy, “you know our gardener?” 

“Henry? What about him?” 

“His name’s Harry,” Louis replies, too quickly. He bites his lip. “I, hum. Was with him.” 

“Mm?” is all his mother says and Louis wants to die. 

“He’s my boyfriend.” 

There’s a clatter of porcelain as she places her cup and saucer back on the table before sitting back in her chair, her eyes riveted on him. Louis can’t read her face with certainty, but he doesn’t see anger. There’s always that. 

“Is he, now? How long has this been going on?” she asks, her voice a lilt. It sounds fake. 

“We—last night. He’s been sending me flowers for days and—and I invited him for lunch two days ago and then last night I went to his place for dinner and I stayed the night.” Louis swallows. “But nothing happened, I promise, all we did was kiss.” Talking about kissing Harry makes him blush and he hates himself for it. He clears his throat.

His mother takes a long sip of tea before speaking. “I can’t say I’m surprised. It was hard to miss the way he looked at you. And you weren’t exactly subtle, going out of your way to hide from him.” She pauses. “You’re gay, then?” 

Louis’ first reflex is to answer sarcastically with a dry ‘no,’ but he’s still feeling too shaky to dare it. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” 

With a bark of laughter, his mother shakes her head. “Sorry for what? There’s nothing to be sorry for, except lying to me.” Leaning forward, she lowers her voice. “If anything, I’m proud of you. He’s fit.” 

“Mum!” Louis says, voice going squeaky with relief. “Don’t talk like that about—about my boyfriend.” He grins at the word and covers his mouth with his hand, but not fast enough. 

“Oh, my god, look at you, you’re smitten.” 

Louis blushes. “I really like him.” 

“Yeah? And he likes you back?” She frowns. “How old is he, exactly? 23 or 24, right?”

“25,” Louis replies, biting his lip. “But he’s being really sweet about... about everything. I don’t feel pressured at all.”

His mother nods, pouring herself another cup of tea. Louis finally takes his, relieved to see his hands stopped shaking. “I’m happy for you, boo. And it’ll be our secret. No one else has to know unless you want them to. You choose who knows.” 

“Thank you,” Louis says, touched. He clears his throat. “Can I go call him? I said I’d call him after we had talked.”

“Absolutely not. First, you’ve got to tell me all about this flower business and your dates. My boy has a boyfriend, I need to know everything.” 

Putting his cup down, Louis gets up and circles the table to hug his mother tightly, smiling when she hugs him back. “Thank you.” 

She rubs his back and kisses his cheek, smiling as well. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me. It means a lot. Now,” she adds once Louis sat down again after stroking her pregnant belly a few times. “Spill.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! 
> 
> My partner in crime and I were discussing this chapter last week and reminiscing about where we first came up with the idea for it: walking towards the Royal Mile in Edinburgh on our first day there. I was telling her where I was in the fic and what I was planning for the next chapter and how I'd daydreamed about one particular moment in this one (i.e., the pool bit) and we fleshed it out a bit more. 
> 
> One of the perks of not being a native English speaker is that you can discuss fanfictions in public and no one knows what you're saying, even if what you're discussing is smut.

If Louis is being entirely honest, his level of stress has probably reached supernova status. He keeps pacing back and forth in his room, listening intently to the noises coming from the other rooms of the house to know exactly when his family will be about to leave. They were supposed to leave the house at half past four to make it to their train on time, but it is now a quarter to five and they’re still milling about downstairs, talking loudly as they try and gather the rest of their luggage. The weekend away had been Louis’ mother’s idea, an excuse to get out of the house and give some time to Louis alone with Harry and Louis’ been acting like the model son all week to thank her.

It’s been exactly fourteen days since he’s been dating Harry and they haven’t managed to be alone together since. The time Louis spends with him when he can risk it don’t really count; they barely dare holding hands in fear that someone might sneak up on them, so kissing is out of the question. They tried to plan dates almost every day since their last, but between Harry’s job and—no, it’s all on Harry’s job. Louis’ schedule is pretty much clear all the time. Because of Harry’s job, then, they can’t go on dates as often as they’d like. Or at all, actually, thus his mother’s idea to take everyone on a trip to their country house for a couple of days so Louis might have a chance to kiss his boyfriend – his _boyfriend_ – for more than twenty seconds before one of the twins comes running to him to ask if he wants to play hide and seek.

When he’s called downstairs to bid them all farewell, he’s bouncing on his toes and waving them out of the door as politely and subtly as he can, knowing that Harry is five minutes away from walking in the house for their date. 

“Be good,” his mother tells him as she kisses his cheek and hugs him. “But not too good.” She winks and he groans, hugging her before moving on to hug his sisters.

Two minutes later and the front door shuts behind them. He only breathes out a sigh of relief when he hears the car drive away and then he runs upstairs to change into the outfit he’s chosen for the day. He puts on black dress trousers and hurries too much buttoning his pale blue shirt, doing it up wrong and groaning when he has to undo it and redo it again. He quickly attaches black braces to his trousers and pulls them on as he slips into his shoes.

He fixes his hair in the mirror before running to the kitchen to check that the meal his mother asked their chef to freeze for him is thawing and to dress the table. He barely has time to figure out where the cutlery is before he hears a knock on the back door and hurries to it, smiling so hard it hurts.

“Hello, sunshine,” Harry says, smiling just as broadly. There’s a smear of dirt on his cheek and he didn’t bother buttoning up his shirt, the plaid fabric hanging loosely off his shoulders and Louis licks his lips at the sight of the butterfly on his chest. In his hand, he’s holding a red rose. “For you,” he says, handing it to Louis.

“Hi,” he replies in a breathless voice, slipping into his natural accent and taking a step back to let Harry in. His heart is beating so hard it’s threatening to burst out of his chest. “How are you?” He takes the rose and smells it, smiling and looking at Harry through his eyelashes.

“I couldn’t be better, I’m on a date with you.” With that, he drops his bag and steps closer, cradling the back of Louis’ head in his hand and leaning down for a kiss.

Louis lifts his chin and rises on the tip of his toes to meet him halfway, sighing happily when their lips meet. Harry smells like sweat and sun and his other hand is warm on Louis’ waist and he has had so many fantasies starting this way that he’s getting dizzy. He kisses Harry like he’s starved for him, until he loses his breath and can’t remember where he ends and Harry begins.

To his defence, they haven’t kissed in almost six days.

“Can I borrow your shower? I’m not exactly dressed appropriately,” Harry asks after pulling away too soon. He shoves his bag with his foot. “I brought a proper outfit and all.”

“Yes, of course,” Louis replies, running his hand down Harry’s arm. “Follow me.”

He leads the way to the second floor, feeling stupidly nervous at the idea that Harry will soon be in his bedroom and then naked in his shower. He bites his lip to push away the image of Harry naked. That’s a dangerous thought.

“You can use the one in my bathroom, the guest one is shit,” he says over his shoulder, climbing up the stairs as slowly as his nerves will let him. He checks on Harry and bites his lip, loving how out of place Harry looks amongst the eggshell walls and minimalist decoration in his unbuttoned red plaid shirt and torn black jeans.

“Your house is lovely,” Harry comments as they get to the landing.

Louis scrunches up his nose. “I think it’s too bare. It doesn’t feel lived in.” He opens the door of his bedroom and lets Harry in. “So, this is my room,” he says lightly, crossing the room to open the bathroom door. “And here’s the bathroom. I’ll bring you a towel in a second. You can use my stuff.”

He runs out of the room to go fetch a towel, toppling the pile in his haste and cursing under his breath as he cleans up, balancing the plush towels in an approximate pile before hurrying back, walking in without knocking.

It turns out to be a terrible, terrible mistake. Harry has already stepped out of his clothes and is in the shower. If it weren’t for the frosted shower glass doors, Louis would see everything. For the moment, all he can see is Harry’s back and the water sliding down it from his slicked back hair, turned black by the water.

“I’ll leave the towel on the counter,” Louis says, voice squeaky. He clears his throat. “And I’ll be downstairs.”

Harry turns and smiles through the rapidly fogging glass and nods, giving Louis the thumbs up. Giggling, Louis reluctantly leaves the room and heads back downstairs to finish preparing the dining room for them. He turns on the stereo on his way through the sitting room, the preselected record clicking in place and filling the house with soft jazz notes. Jazz is sexy and he hopes it might give Harry ideas. He really, really hopes it does.

He’s debating between two types of soup bowls when he hears Harry clearing his throat from the doorway. Looking up, he drops the bowl he’s holding, the porcelain shattering when it collapses on the ceramic tiles. Harry is wearing nothing but a towel around his hips, hanging low and held up by a loose knot and a lot of wishful thinking. His hair is dripping water on his bare chest, already curling. Louis can see almost everything and his eyes get stuck on Harry’s hipbones and the deep lines underneath them that disappear under the towel. He licks his lips unconsciously.

“Shit,” Harry says, stepping closer to help. “I forgot my bag downstairs, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to scare you.”

“No! It’s fine! Stay where you are!” Louis yelps, convinced that if Harry moves, the towel will finally give up and slip down and then he won’t be able to answer for his actions. “There’s porcelain everywhere and you’re barefoot. I’ll go get your bag, stay here.”

Porcelain crunches underneath the soles of his shoes as he goes to pick up Harry’s bag and the air gets punched out of his lungs once more when he turns around and sees Harry’s state of near-nakedness. It’s unfair. It’s totally and completely unfair because Louis wants things he shouldn’t even know about yet since he’s a bloody virgin, but he wants them, _fuck_ , he really bloody does when Harry is almost naked and he wouldn’t even refuse Louis, the jerk, he’d let Louis do everything he wanted to him and he’d be so bloody pleasant about it, too. Louis would hate him if he weren’t so head over heels in love with him.

Harry clears his throat and Louis realises with horror that he still hasn’t given the bag to Harry. He hands it to him, eyes wide and panicked, only to be greeted with a laugh and a wink. With that, Harry walks out of the room, saying he’ll be right back over his shoulder.

Louis swallows hard and shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of arousal that took over his mind. He has a meal to prepare—no. He has shattered porcelain to clean up. He does that, mind travelling upstairs where Harry is getting dressed, probably tucking himself into his tight trousers at this very moment. Louis sighs dreamily and dumps the biggest shards in the bin before taking a broom out of the closet and sweeping the remaining pieces under the kitchen rug.

Placing another bowl on the table, Louis sets about microwaving the stew the chef left, fussing around the kitchen as he waits, unsure of what to do. He pours himself a tall glass of water and downs it in a few gulps, eyes trained on the kitchen doorway in case Harry once more crept downstairs without making any noise.

He’s nervous to be around Harry. He knows he shouldn’t be because Harry obviously likes him enough to ask if they could be boyfriends an hour into their second date, but he’s still terrified he’ll screw up. It’s not that Harry is intimidating; he’s everything but, acting with the enthusiasm of an overgrown toddler and marvelling at the very idea of being alive. It’s not that. It’s just that Louis is, well—he’s himself and that’s not much. He hasn’t got anything to offer Harry. He’s just Louis. Boring, uninteresting Louis.

Harry walks in at that moment, wearing a frankly appalling floral shirt in shades that should have stayed in the 1970s where they belong alongside vinyl records and wood-panelled cars. He’s rolled the short sleeves to make them even shorter and left almost half of the buttons undone, the top of the butterfly peeking through the opening enticingly. He’s paired it with a slightly less tattered pair of black skinny jeans and his usual leather boots. His hair is still wet, curling even more than earlier. His skin is still flushed from the hot water, two patches of red adorning his cheeks. Louis lets out a sigh and smiles, walking up to Harry with his heart hammering in his chest.

“You look amazing,” he tells him, running his thumb on Harry’s reddened cheekbone before getting up on his tiptoes to kiss him quickly. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Harry wraps his long arms around Louis, lifting him off the ground and laughing when Louis lets out a yelp. “I didn’t want to hug you earlier because I was gross,” he explains, holding Louis tightly. “Hello, boyfriend. I missed you,” he says into Louis’ neck. “You didn’t come to see me today. I was sad.”

Louis clings to Harry, smelling his own soap and shampoo on his skin and loving it. “I missed you, too. Sorry about today, the wanker was home. I couldn’t risk it.”

“Missed you more,” Harry replies, putting Louis down, but keeping his arms around him. 

“No, I did.” Louis pulls back slightly to look at Harry, thrilled to see him smirk, his eyes twinkling.

“Impossible. I missed you more. Don’t argue with me.” 

“Yeah, well, I want cake,” he says, searching Harry’s face for any sign that he’s figured out what Louis means.

Harry laughs. “Did you buy some for dessert?”

Louis is stopped from answering by the microwave beeping. Harry reluctantly lets go of him and follows him, hovering close by until Louis rolls his eyes. “Go sit. I’ll be right there.” Louis’ heart is hammering; it was a close call.

“Yes, sir,” Harry says playfully before disappearing into the dining room, leaving Louis alone to pour the stew from the plastic container it was frozen in to a proper serving dish, bringing it into the room and returning the smile Harry gives him. “It smells delicious.”

“Thanks. It’s an old family recipe,” he replies, placing the dish on the table and serving Harry, batting his hand away when he tries to do it himself. “I hope you’ll like it.” He pours them both glasses of wine from the decanter.

“I’m sure I will,” Harry says, waiting until Louis sat down with his own plate before digging in, nodding with a smile as he chews the first bite. “Delicious.”

Louis smiles. “Good.” He eats in silence for a while before it starts making him nervous. “I’m glad I have you all for myself tonight. No Niall.”

“No Niall. Lucky us,” Harry says, smiling and entwining their fingers.

“I was thinking we might watch a movie after dinner?” He tried to figure out for a very long time what he’d do with Harry when he came over, but having never been on a date before, he had to admit defeat and copy what Harry had planned for them. Food and movie and then, hopefully, a lot of snogging.

“I’d love that,” Harry replies. “I’m happy to be here with you. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Louis nearly chokes on a piece of carrot. “You can’t say that! No one says things like that!”

“Well, I do,” Harry says defiantly. “Deal with it. I’m not going to stop complimenting my pretty boyfriend because it’s not what people do.”

Ducking his head, Louis smiles brightly. He takes a sip of wine before speaking. “I’m your pretty boyfriend.” He giggles. “I’m sorry I’m giving you microwaved food. I’m useless in a kitchen. I’m useless everywhere, actually.”

“I’ll have to teach you how to cook, then. It’s a lot of fun once you get good at it.”

“You’ll have to teach me everything. Everything _everything_ , if you know what I mean.” Louis holds Harry’s eyes to make sure his meaning comes across. He congratulates himself on not blushing.

“Of course. I’ll teach you how to cook basic meals, and desserts, and...” Harry frowns. “You were talking about sex, weren’t you?”

Louis laughs timidly. “Yes, everything _everything_ , sex included. I know the theory, but…” he trails off, his cheeks turning pink.

“It’ll be my pleasure to teach you everything there is to know,” Harry says softly, stroking his thumb across Louis’ hand. He’s making it hard to eat, Louis feeling on the edge of choking with every word that comes out of Harry’s mouth, so he drinks more wine.

“Because we’ll have sex, yeah? Not—not now, but, hum, soon?” Louis nearly downs his glass of wine to survive what he just asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Harry replies evenly. “Whenever you want. We’ll do whatever you want.”

Louis bites his lip, trying and failing to hold back a giggle. “You want to have sex with me.”

Harry laughs, too. “I want to do things with you that you can’t even imagine.” He squeezes Louis’ hand, watching him closely, probably waiting to see if he’s gone too far. Louis doesn’t want it to be too far. He wants to talk about sex with his boyfriend, both theoretically and as a planning of things to come.

He can’t help the blush that creeps up his cheeks, though, nor the shiver that runs through him. “You’re right, I probably can’t even begin to imagine what you think about. For now, watching you work shirtless is enough for me.”

“And I’m not telling you, yet. I don’t want to scare you.” Harry pulls Louis’ hand up and kisses it, lips lingering on the skin. Louis shivers again.

Louis frowns. “Please tell me _50 Shades of Grey_ didn’t open new horizons for you.”

Harry bursts out laughing, nearly choking on his sip of wine, which Louis finds adorable. When Harry laughs that hard, he almost looks surprised by the sounds he’s making and his eyes sparkle. Louis’ stomach loops every single time. “Fuck, no. Don’t worry, I’m pretty tame, but I still don’t think you’re ready to hear the very normal and completely non-abusive things I want to do to you.”

“You say normal,” Louis begins, feeling emboldened by the wine, “but maybe _Cosmo_ didn’t explain how to deal with the things you’re thinking about.”

“Well, unless _Cosmo_ changed a lot recently, I doubt they give good advice on sodomy, so no, they probably didn’t.”

The word rings through Louis’ mind, making him dizzy. Harry thinks about that and about doing it with Louis. He downs his glass of wine and reaches for the decanter, filling his glass almost to the brim and drinking from it again. 

“I don’t remember them saying anything about it, no. But they did advice readers to poke their partners with forks.”

Harry frowns. “Please don’t stab me.”

With a laugh, Louis shakes his head, eyes crinkled. “But _Cosmo_ said you’d love it!”

Opening his eyes wide, Harry shakes his head. “I wouldn’t. I promise I wouldn’t.”

Sighing dramatically, Louis rolls his eyes. “ _Fine_. If you say so.” He turns his mock exasperation into a soft smile, watching Harry with growing intensity, ignoring his half full plate. “Is it silly that I want us to happen really badly?”

Harry looks surprised, but he recovers quickly. “It’s not. Especially since we’re already happening.”

“We are,” Louis says dreamily, tightening his grip on Harry’s hand. “We’re boyfriends.”

“You sound incredulous,” Harry comments teasingly as he looks at Louis above the brim of his glass. 

Louis snorts. “Well, a bit.”

“Don’t be.” Harry smiles goofily, making Louis laugh.

“Alright, I’ll try not to be.” They eat in silence for a moment, Louis stealing glances at Harry and ducking his head whenever their eyes meet. “After the movie, maybe we could play some games?” He regrets the offer as soon as it leaves his lips. What does he think they are, eight year olds?

“Sure, what have you got?”

“Most of the usual ones, you know, _Monopoly_ , _Trivial Pursuit_ and the likes.”

“Everything but _Trivial Pursuit_. I’m hopeless at it. You’d have to let me win.”

“Letting a boy win to win his affections, how cliché. Eton wouldn’t be proud of me for pretending they didn’t teach me everything I need to know to win at this game.”

Harry lets out a low whistle. “You went to Eton?”

“How’d you think I got into Oxford?” Louis chuckles. “It rid my stepfather of me, he loved it.”

“So you had the uniform and all?” Harry’s eyes are twinkling, his interest strangely piqued. 

“Well, yeah. It was mandatory.”

After a sip of wine, Harry nods. “So let me get this straight: you’re gay and yet you got out of boarding school a virgin. I’m fascinated by how that happened. Tell me more.” 

Louis blushes, shrugging as he compulsively drinks wine. “None of the boys were interesting. Boys my age are morons.”

“Boys my age are morons, too, you know,” Harry says fondly. “I’m not judging, I’m just... well, you lived the dream and didn’t do anything about it. It’s a bit intriguing, is all.”

“Boarding school isn’t a dream, though.”

“But boys in uniform! Dorms! It’s like _Dead Poets Society_ , but without the stigma that stopped Neil and his roommate hooking up!”

Louis frowns. “You’re weirdly passionate about the concept of boarding school.”

“I’m passionate about the idea of you wearing the Eton uniform. I’m just building around that.” With that, Harry winks and finishes his glass of wine. “Could we go for a swim after the movie? I’ve been dreaming about your pool for weeks.”

Getting up to gather the empty plates, Louis shrugs. “Yeah, sure. You brought a swimsuit? Mine probably won’t fit you.”

“No, do I need one?”

It takes all of the reflexes Louis has to stop him from dropping the plates he’s holding. “You—you want to skinny dip?”

“It’s alright if it makes you uncomfortable, I can get a rain check on that swim, it’s not a problem,” Harry says hurriedly. “Forget I said anything, it was out of place.” 

Louis isn’t sure, but he thinks Harry might be blushing.

“No, no, it’s... It’s just skin, right?” Louis says in a white voice.

“Yeah, but if—”

Louis shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. We can go for a swim after the movie.”

Nodding, Harry gets up and starts clearing the table. “Do you need help?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just putting everything in the sink. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. You can go wait for me in the living room, yeah? I won’t be long.”

Once he’s alone, Louis takes a few minutes to assess the situation. In about two hours, he will see Harry naked. Even if he keeps his eyes closed while Harry gets in the pool, he’ll still see him through the water. He’ll see everything there is to see, his—his cock and his arse and everything around it. He lets out a shaky breath and pours himself a glass of water, feeling hot and blaming the wine for it. His hand shakes when he takes a sip, making him feel even more nervous to see how nervous he is. Harry might actually kill him before he’s even touched him.

Speaking of Harry, he’s patiently sitting on the couch when Louis enters the room, looking around with curiosity and smiling when he sees Louis. Louis smiles back and grabs a couple of remotes from an end table before joining Harry on the couch, letting out a squeak and a laugh when Harry pulls him closer and wraps his arms around him tightly.

“Come here, it’s time to cuddle,” he says, his voice warm. He presses a kiss to the top of Louis’ head and then settles comfortably in the couch, pushing and pulling Louis until he’s got him where he wants him. Louis lets him, his stomach doing somersaults because _fuck_ , he loves it when Harry handles him like that. “What are we watching?”

“We watched your favourite the last time, so it’s my turn,” Louis explains, turning on the television and the blu-ray player. He presses play and looks up at Harry’s face, waiting to see his reaction as _Grease_ starts playing.

“ _Grease_!” he says cheerfully. “I love it.”

“Is there something you don’t love?” Louis asks playfully, even if it’s a legitimate question. Harry seems to love everything. It’s uncanny.

“There are a few things, yeah, like poverty, famine, violence, and stuff,” he replies flippantly. “Shh, the movie is starting,” he then says, putting his finger over Louis’ lips to hush him.

Louis kisses the finger before resting his head against Harry’s chest, getting comfortable and smiling as the familiar images appear on the screen.

He almost falls asleep like that, curled up against Harry with his large hand warm on his back and stroking soothing circles. He tries to stay awake, though, because he hears Harry sing along under his breath a few times and it makes him fall in love a little bit more every time he does it. He joins in once or twice, looking up to see Harry staring at him with stars in his eyes. Louis bites his lip every time, feeling like the most important person in the world. 

But then the movie ends and as the credits roll, Louis’ stomach ties into a knot of anticipation. They’ll go swimming, now. Harry will be naked and close to him. They might even touch while he’s naked. He kind of wants it to happen, if he’s entirely honest. He doesn’t quite know what it means to be ‘ready’, but he thinks he might be. He wants something to happen while they’re in the pool. The conclusion hits him all at once and he takes in a shuddering breath, feeling thrilled and excited instead of the nerves that had been gnawing at his brain since Harry offered.

He might have sex, tonight. Perrie will _never_ believe him, if he does. He can’t wait to tell her.

“Time for a swim?” Louis asks, looking up at Harry.

With a grin and a nod, Harry gently pushes Louis off him. “I’m so excited about it, I haven’t had the chance to swim for months!”

Louis lets out a nervous laugh. “Alright, Nemo, I’ll just go change. You can wait here.”

“Nemo?” Harry says, ignoring the offer and following Louis upstairs.

“Like _Finding Nemo_?” Louis shrugs. “You can be Ariel, if you prefer.”

“I do,” Harry replies, surprising Louis and making him laugh. He stops in the doorway of Louis’ room, leaning against the frame. “Can I get a towel, please? I won’t strip in your backyard, I’d feel a bit cheap.”

Louis licks his lips and nods, pushing passed Harry to take a beach towel out of the linen closet and handing it to Harry. “You can use my bathroom again, if you want. Just knock when you’re done, I’ll open when I’m ready.”

Harry follows him in and pulls Louis in by his braces to plant a loud kiss on his lips. He then walks away and shuts the bathroom door behind him, leaving Louis reeling from the kiss. He makes a mental note to wear more braces around Harry.

Louis listens for a moment, swallowing hard when he hears Harry’s belt fall to the floor with a metallic cling. He shakes his head and fetches his swim trunks from his dresser before stripping and putting them on, going over to the mirror to see what he looks like in them. 

His tummy is the first thing he checks, frowning disapprovingly at it and holding his breath as he tries to suck it in, fruitlessly. He then turns sideways to check his bum, shaking his head with a sigh at the stupid size of it; not that Harry doesn’t know that he’s got a ridiculous big arse, what with the tight jeans he’s been wearing around him, but he feels like the trunks are a neon sign pointing straight at it.

He only walks away from the mirror when he hears Harry knock on the bathroom door. “It’s alright!” he calls, picking up his clothes from the floor and placing them on his bed so they won’t wrinkle. Anything to keep his eyes off Harry.

“Can we go, now?” Harry asks excitedly, putting his hands on Louis’ hips and kissing the nape of his neck. “It’s a bit cold in your house to be naked.”

Shivering at the touch and the kiss, Louis nods. “Yeah, alright, follow me.”

Louis stops by the linen closet to get a towel of his own and then leads the way to the pool, Harry on his heels. Once outside, he turns on the lights and places his towel on a long chair before getting in the water to escape the evening chill, thankful for their water heater. He keeps his back to Harry and takes in a shuddering breath when he hears him get in the water, only to choke on it when Harry swims up to him and wraps his arms around his waist to press a kiss to his naked shoulder.

“You tell me if this is too much,” Harry whispers, pressing another kiss to Louis’ skin. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Louis shakes his head, letting out a nervous laugh. “No, it’s fine. It’s just skin, right? And I can’t see anything anyway.”

Harry hums against his skin, kisses it one more time, and then swims away, splashing around with a big smile on his face. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this since I was hired.”

“What, skinny dip?” Louis asks.

“No, just use the pool. The skinny dipping is a nice plus, though.” With that, he dives under water, crossing the length of the pool before coming back up for air at the other end, pushing his drenched hair out of his face with both hands. He stands up, the shallow water barely covering his hips. “Aren’t you going to swim around?”

Forcing himself to look up at Harry’s face, Louis shakes his head. “No, no, I’m fine just standing here. I don’t want to get my hair wet.”

“Why not? It’s no fun to swim if you don’t enjoy it fully!” Harry says cheerfully, swimming over to Louis. 

“I washed it earlier today, it’ll be ruined if I get chlorine in it.”

Harry laughs, rolling his eyes and stopping a few feet from Louis. “What are you, a 45 years old maiden aunt? Live a little, Lou.”

“Shut up, I’m only 19. And we don’t all have perfect hair without even trying! Some of us have to work hard to get theirs to look good. It takes me a long time to get mine like this, I don’t want to ruin it all.”

Smiling fondly, Harry gets even closer, close enough that Louis can see the droplets of water and the goose bumps covering his tanned skin. Louis backs up, smiling coyly until his back hits the wall and he shivers, watching Harry close in with a smirk.

“I bet I can get your hair wet whether you want to or not,” Harry says, dropping his voice lower. It stirs something in Louis’ stomach and he bites his lip, looking up at Harry with wide eyes. He’s _very_ close, his body heat making Louis shiver.

“And how do you think you’ll do that?”

“Like this.”

Harry moves in quickly, grabbing Louis around the waist and lifting him up before spinning on himself and throwing Louis away. Louis only has time to hold his breath before he falls gracelessly in the water, letting out a yelp of surprise and indignation. He comes up a few seconds later, spluttering and ready to curse Harry, but definitely not ready to find him in front of him, smiling like Christmas came early. 

“How dare you!” he cries, pushing his hair back with annoyance.

“Don’t be mad, Lou, it’s just hair,” Harry replies, obviously trying to suppress his laughter. He steps closer, hands held up in atonement. “Please, forgive me.”

“I told you I didn’t want to get my hair wet!” Louis complains for show. He’s not really upset; to be entirely honest, he’s strangely turned on and he hopes and prays to all the gods he knows about that Harry won’t be able to tell he’s getting a boner. He files away for later the fact that, apparently, he really likes being manhandled.

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Liar,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “You totally meant it.”

Harry laughs. “You’re right, I totally meant it. I’m not even sorry, you look adorable like that.”

“I look like a wet dog,” Louis says with a pout and a reproachful voice.

“But a very cute wet dog,” Harry offers, closing in on Louis and putting his hands on his hips, stroking them up and down. “The cutest wet dog I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re full of shit, Styles.”

Shrugging, Harry leans down to press a kiss to Louis’ lips. “But you love it.”

Louis scoffs. “What makes you say that?” He rises on the tip of his toes to kiss Harry back, placing his hands on his biceps for balance.

“Because you miraculously wanted to go on a date with me,” Harry replies, returning the kiss, his hands slipping from Louis’ hips to the small of his back.

“You never know, maybe I only did it because I pitied you,” Louis says against his lips, pressing their bare chests together.

Harry wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him in even closer, deepening the kiss and drawing a small whimper from Louis. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

With that, Harry lifts him up and Louis has the reflex to hook his legs around Harry’s waist, smiling into the kiss when Harry helps him up and holds him close, pressing a series of long kisses to his lips. Louis clings to Harry tighter, shifting closer and returning the kisses as best he can. Running a hand through Harry’s hair, Louis lets him lick into his mouth, keening and rolling his hips.

“Oh, hello there,” Harry says, breaking the kiss to grin at Louis.

Louis shuts his eyes, mortified. Harry felt his boner, _of course_ he felt it, Louis bloody rutted against him like some dog in heat. “I’m sorry,” he says shyly, loosening his arms from around his shoulders as he gets ready to get off Harry.

“No need to apologise, sunshine. Don’t be silly.” Gently, Harry starts walking, only stopping when Louis’ back hits the wall of the pool. “It’s alright by me if it’s alright by you,” he whispers in Louis’ ear before sucking on his earlobe lightly.

Louis whines and nods, tightening his legs around Harry’s waist to get him closer. Harry presses in and Louis hisses when his cock gets trapped between their bodies. Harry starts kissing him again slowly, tenderly, in a way that makes Louis’ head spin. He licks into Louis’ mouth as his hands move down from Louis’ waist, stopping at the waistband of his trunks, fingertips slipping underneath it teasingly.

“You set the pace,” Harry says against his lips before nibbling them, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin and making Louis gasp.

He takes less than a second to think about it before nodding. “You can take it off,” he whispers, immediately kissing Harry again so he can’t change his mind.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, waiting for Louis to nod before he slides his hand underneath Louis’ swim trunks and over the curve of his bum, pushing the fabric down. Louis shivers at the feeling of Harry’s large hands on his arse and kisses him more intensely, only stopping when Harry gently pushes him away. “Get off me for a second.”

Louis climbs off and Harry makes quick work of taking off his trunks. They both watch them float up to the surface in silence, exchanging a look and matching grins before Harry hoists Louis up by the waist and pushes him back against the wall. Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist and his arms around his neck without missing a beat, kissing him messily and moaning into his mouth when Harry presses closer, trapping their cocks between them.

And _oh, my god_ , that’s Harry’s cock he can feel against his hip, his actual cock; that’s a real-life cock and it’s touching him, and he can’t help the way he rolls his hips forward almost madly, seeking contact.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” Harry whispers, stilling Louis by holding his hips and rolling his forward slowly. “Let me.”

A shiver runs through Louis when Harry thrusts forward and he whines, clinging to him and nodding emphatically. “Okay, yeah, go on.”

Harry sucks on his bottom lip and then licks it soothingly, rolling his hips again and again, starting a slow rhythm. Louis can’t tell for sure if he’s hard, but it’s doing wonders to his own cock and he throws his head back, Harry immediately pressing his lips to his neck, kissing and sucking his skin. He chuckles every time Louis lets out a noise, be it a whimper, a whine or a moan, and Louis would hate him for it if the long, slow presses of Harry’s hips against his didn’t feel so good.

He buries his fingers through Harry’s hair, pulling at it to kiss Harry, breathing hard and loud through his nose. Harry chooses this moment to change his pace, thrusting hard and quick and making Louis moan in surprise. Harry slips his tongue into his mouth, rubbing it against Louis’ agonizingly slowly. 

Tightening his legs to bring Harry even closer, Louis pushes his hips forward, meeting Harry’s on a thrust and making him gasp and grip Louis’ arse tightly, fingers digging in his flesh. Louis lets out a small whine through his nose and does it again, rolling forward and undulating wildly against Harry, seeking more and more friction as he feels his orgasm build up in the pit of his stomach. He’s letting out high-pitched, breathy moans and clinging to Harry desperately, not even trying to kiss him anymore. He’s slipping down despite the way Harry holds him and it changes the angle, his cock rubbing against one of the v-lines of Harry’s hips, and Louis groans and thrusts against him over and over again.

“You’re close?” Harry asks before trapping Louis’ lip between his teeth, pulling it. 

The sting makes Louis whine and he nods, fingernails digging into Harry’s shoulders.

Harry presses him hard against the wall, the cement rough and cold against Louis’ overheated skin, and begins bucking his hips hard. Louis is trapped between the wall and Harry’s body, unable to move and loving it so much that he moans uncontrollably, his voice getting higher as he gets closer to his orgasm.

“I’m—” he breathes out, interrupted by Harry’s lips crashing against his, kissing him madly as he quickens his hips.

Louis comes with a gasp that quickly turns into a whimper, his nose buried in Harry’s neck, breathing in his smell of sweat and chlorine and shaking like a leaf. Harry keeps rolling his hips as Louis rides his orgasm, only slowing down then stopping when he goes limp against him.

“You okay?” Harry asks softly, pressing a kiss to Louis’ collarbone.

With a giggle, Louis nods. “Yeah,” he breathes out, laughing again.

_Holy shit_ , he just had sex. He giggles at the thought, clinging to Harry to keep him close in case he planned on moving away. Harry kisses him, a slow press of his lips, and when Louis tries to deepen it, he pulls away.

“Good,” he says, kissing the tip of Louis’ nose. “That was the goal.”

“What about you?” Louis asks because he doesn’t think he was gone enough to miss Harry’s orgasm, which means it didn’t happen.

“I’m okay,” Harry replies, shrugging. He glances down and Louis follows his gaze, biting his lip. He’s disappointed that he can’t see anything because of the water distortion. “I’m not even fully hard.”

“Oh,” Louis lets out, disappointed. “I’m sorry if I don’t really turn you on.”

“Oh god, no, baby. No,” Harry immediately says, pressing a few kisses to Louis’ lips. “It’s not that at all. I was just focusing on making you feel good, that’s all.”

Louis nods, thinking. What he really wants even if he knows he shouldn’t because they’ve already been wild enough for a lifetime, probably, is to take Harry up to his room and return the favour. He doesn’t quite know _how_ he’d do that, but he really, really wants to do it.

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, he stops thinking and kisses Harry. “Do you want to go to my room?”

Harry pulls back to look at him quizzically for a few seconds. He then lifts an eyebrow and smiles, nodding. “That’s a good idea, yeah.”

“Alright,” Louis says, getting off Harry and swimming over to the ladder. He climbs out of the pool, looking back over his shoulder to find Harry’s eyes on him. He bites his lip and turns, reaching for his towel and drying himself quickly. From behind him, he hears Harry getting out of the pool and risks a glance in his direction, getting a glimpse of his bum before he covers it with the towel as he dries himself.

Louis is about to tie his towel around his waist when he feels Harry’s hand on his hip. “Leave the towel here,” he whispers in his ear before kissing behind it, his warm breath making Louis shiver.

Before Louis can reply, Harry steps in front of him and lifts him up with his hands under his thighs. Louis wraps his legs around his waist and clings to his shoulders, burying his head in his neck and giggling when Harry begins walking towards the house. 

“You’re insane,” he mumbles, kissing Harry’s neck, adrenaline coursing through his veins at the thought of what they’re about to do.

“That’s your fault.”

Louis giggles again and then rests his head against Harry’s, letting himself be carried up to his room. He shivers when they step inside the house and Harry holds him closer, kissing his neck soothingly. Once in Louis’ room, Harry walks over to his bed and drops Louis on it unceremoniously, laughing when Louis lets out a noise of protest.

“That’s not very gentlemanly,” Louis comments, quickly crawling to his bedside table to turn on a lamp. He regrets it immediately because it leaves him feeling exposed. He brings up his legs against his chest and wraps his arms around his knees.

And then he looks at Harry, who’s standing by the foot of the bed and looking at Louis fondly. Swallowing, Louis lets his eyes travel over the toned chest he’s familiar with, Harry’s skin looking smooth and golden under the faint light of the bedside lamp. Louis’ breath quickens and his heart starts racing as his eyes move down the trail of hair underneath Harry’s navel, passed the laurels and straight to Harry’s cock. 

He’s semi-hard and—and, well, Louis can’t compare to anyone in real life, but even in terms of the porn he’s watched, Harry seems big. Louis bites his lips, eyes fixed on Harry’s cock, cheeks on fire and his own cock getting hard again just from the sight.

“It’s not fair if you can see mine and I can’t see yours,” Harry says, breaking Louis’ trance by getting on the bed and crawling over to Louis. He kneels down and places his hands on Louis’ knees, pushing them down gently before kissing Louis’ nose. He looks down and Louis barely resists the urge to hide his cock with his hands. 

“Gorgeous,” Harry says, smiling at him and kissing him. “Lie down?”

Louis obliges, slipping down until he’s lying with his head on his pillow and looking up at Harry, who only grins. He begins by dragging his hands down Louis’ sides and over his hips, stroking them up and down a few times. Louis finds himself relaxing despite how nervous he feels, Harry’s softness making him forget how self-conscious he is to be lying there, exposed to Harry’s eyes. 

From his hips, Harry moves down to his thighs, dragging his nails down them until Louis shivers and squirms against the bed.

“You have amazing thighs, you know that?” Harry says, biting lightly then placing a kiss just above Louis’ left knee.

“I do?” Louis asks, voice squeaky. He clears his throat. “I do a lot of riding. On horses, I mean, not… not the other kind.”

Harry hums, kissing up Louis’ thigh to his hip, nibbling at the hipbone for a moment before trailing kisses to the softest part of Louis’ tummy, which he nuzzles with another hum. Louis immediately tenses to have him there.

Looking up, Harry smiles softly. “I love your tummy.” He presses a loud kiss to it and Louis squirms again, letting out a small whimper when Harry kisses his way up his chest, crawling over him all the while. He kisses Louis’ lips when he reaches them, smoothing back his fringe and looking at him with soft eyes. 

“Hi,” Harry whispers, laughter in his eyes. He kisses the tip of Louis’ nose and Louis wrinkles it just to hear Harry laugh. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You can stop lying, you’re already in my bed,” Louis replies, rolling his eyes.

Harry frowns and pouts, sitting back on his haunches, which is the strangest sight Louis has ever seen: from the shoulders up, with his pouted lips, Harry looks like a small child who’s been denied sweets, but if he looks down, he’s faced with the body of a grown man, from his toned chest to his erection. Louis licks his lip at the sight of it, not quite ready yet to admit to himself that what got Harry hard was the sight of his body, despite the evidence.

“Why are you pouting?” Louis asks, not quite knowing what to do with his hands and placing them on Harry’s thighs so they won’t lie limply by his sides.

“Because you don’t believe that I find you attractive.”

“It’s not… I’ve just never thought of myself that way, is all.”

“But do you believe me when I tell you that you are?”

“I believe, hum, this,” Louis says shyly, pointing at Harry’s hard cock.

Harry’s pout turns into a smirk and he lowers himself down once more, holding himself up with his forearms on each side of Louis’ head. He presses a long, chaste kiss to Louis’ lips. “Good. I think you’re gorgeous, Lou.” Harry kisses up to Louis’ ear. “You’re so sexy, with your strong thighs and your round hips, fuck, the first time I saw you in skinny jeans, I nearly choked. And your bum, baby, god, I love your bum.” 

Harry shifts to free one of his hands and run it down Louis’ side, snaking it underneath him and grabbing his arse. At the same time, he lowers himself down completely, pressing his cock against Louis’ hip and Louis’ against his own hip. The mix of the two things happening at once make Louis gasp and throw his head back, fingers clawing at Harry’s back. With a giggle, Harry starts rolling his hips against Louis’ and it feels even better than in the pool now that he has Harry’s weight on him, making him feel trapped and at his mercy. He whines and lets his legs fall open, pushing up against Harry.

Harry moves his hand from Louis’ bum down his thigh, pulling it up to wrap around him and then rolling to the side, bringing Louis along so they’re lying on their sides and pressed together, before moving his hand back up to squeeze one of Louis’ arse cheeks. He slips one of his legs between Louis’ and pushes it up while pressing down on Louis’ arse. Louis understands the invitation at once and begins rubbing himself against Harry’s thigh, breath hitching every time Harry pushes his thigh up to meet Louis’ movements. Kissing Harry messily, Louis clings to him, pulling him even closer, scratching his back as he tries to keep a grip on Harry’s now sweaty skin. 

“Lou…” Harry pants, “Can I give you a blowjob?”

Louis lets out a whimper at the offer and nods frantically, pulling Harry’s head down to kiss him again, whining through his nose as the idea of Harry’s plump lips around his cock fills his mind and short-circuits his brain.

Harry nods, too, and plants one last kiss to Louis’ lips before gently pushing him on his back and then kissing his way down his body. He pushes Louis’ legs apart and kneels between them, running his hands up the inside of Louis’ thighs and stopping right before he reaches his cock to move them up Louis’ tummy and up his chest. He runs his thumbs over Louis’ nipples, licking his lips when Louis inhales sharply and squirms. He does it over and over again, only stopping when they’re hard to lean down and suck on one, running his tongue around the hard nub before nibbling it. Louis lets out a high-pitched moan and trashes his legs on the bed, fingers burying in Harry’s curls to simultaneously try to push him away and closer.

“Sensitive nipples, eh?” Harry asks, looking up to smile at Louis. His lips are red and wet and Louis whimpers at the sight, biting his lip. 

“Shut up,” is the most eloquent thing Louis can come up with and it makes Harry laugh.

Louis’ reply to Harry’s laugh dies in his throat when he wraps his hand around his cock and gives it a hard tug. Louis lets out a moan and his toes curl as he tries to find something to hold on to, settling for the bedspread and gripping it tight in his fists. Harry gives him a smug smile before he does it again, rubbing his hand over the head to collect the precome gathering there and make the slide easier. Harry gives a few more tugs before he lowers himself on the bed, lying on his stomach between Louis’ legs and smiling up at him before he gives the tip of Louis’ cock a kitten lick that makes Louis’ eyes roll back in his head, more from the sight than the sensation.

Harry breathes out a laugh, the warm puff of air against his cock making Louis whine, only to choke on it when Harry licks a broad stripe up his shaft before taking the tip in his mouth, suckling it lightly. He keeps it up until Louis squirms and whimpers, at which point he sinks his mouth down around him, taking in as much as he can before he begins to bob his head up and down slowly.

Zayn’s description of how it felt did not prepare Louis for what he’s experiencing as Harry blows him with growing intensity. His hand pumps what his mouth can’t cover while the other hand reaches up to cup Louis’ balls, palming, rolling and tugging on them before Harry lets Louis’s cock slip out of his mouth with a soft ‘pop’ to suck one of Louis’ balls in his mouth.

Louis lets out a gasp and grips the bedspread tighter, breathing in loud and quick; he had _no idea_ that this was a thing that could be done and he gasps when Harry moves on to suck on the other one, his hand jerking off Louis slowly. Louis needs to watch more porn in preparation to all the things Harry seems inclined to do to him otherwise he’ll die of an aneurysm before the end of the year.

Taking Louis in his mouth once more, Harry sinks his head lower and lower, letting Louis’ cock down his throat until his nose is pressed into the hair at the base of it and Louis has to count to one million so he doesn’t come straight away or buck up and choke Harry. Harry is breathing through his nose loudly and stroking Louis’ hips absentmindedly, and Louis is about to ask if he’s okay when Harry swallows around him, making Louis moan in surprise at the feeling. Harry hums a laugh and the vibrations make Louis’ toes curl. 

He’s getting really close and the small corner of lucidity he has left tells him he should warn Harry. He tugs on his hair until Harry pulls off, eyes shining with tears and coughing a little. He gives Louis a reassuring smile, the sight of his swollen lips making Louis’ cock twitch. He whines, eyes fixated on the thin strip of saliva hanging between Harry’s bottom lip and the tip of his cock.

“I’m close,” he manages to let out.

“Awesome,” is all Harry says before taking Louis back in his mouth, sucking and running his tongue along the length more fervently.

Against his will, Louis starts rolling his hips, pushing up to meet Harry’s movements, and Harry takes it in strides, letting Louis set the rhythm.

“Come on, sunshine. Fuck my mouth,” he rasps, looking up at Louis through his eyelashes, and it takes all of Louis’ will not to come straight away.

Instead, he does as he’s told, pushing up into Harry’s mouth over and over again, mesmerised by the sight of his cock disappearing between Harry’s reddened lips and the way he takes it unflinchingly. Harry takes one of Louis’ hands and places it on the back of his own head, nodding when Louis hesitates. Louis curls his fingers into Harry’s hair and tugs, gasping when Harry moans and rolls his hips against the mattress.

Louis quickens his thrusts, his rhythm disappearing as he comes with a loud moan, eyes closing and head rolling back as he feels Harry sucking him through it before pulling off and tugging the last drops out and licking them, his tongue pushing in the slit until Louis whimpers and bats him away.

And then Louis bursts out in a fit of giggles, throwing his arm over his eyes as his body shakes from his laughter. He’s giddy and so, so in love, and he just came twice in under an hour, he didn’t even know that was possible, fuck, Harry is incredible. With that thought in mind, Louis rolls on his side to kiss Harry, taking his face in his hands and placing quick kisses on his lips, laughing through them.

“Someone’s happy,” Harry says, running his hand through Louis’ hair.

Louis nods emphatically and kisses Harry again, licking his lip and moaning softly when he tastes something sharp and salty on it. 

“I can taste myself,” he whispers before giggling.

Harry laughs, too, stroking Louis’ hair once more. He’s holding Louis’ gaze steadily, his pupils so large the green is almost gone, and it’s when he notices the way Harry seems to be devouring him with his eyes that Louis remembers he hasn’t come once yet.

Swallowing against his dry throat, Louis runs a hand down Harry’s torso, heart hammering in his chest when he feels the burning hot skin and strong muscles under his palm. Once he’s reached his hip, Louis looks down and traces the laurels with the tip of his finger, watching the way Harry’s belly moves up and down rapidly, his breath laboured under Louis’ light touches. Louis takes his cock in his hand at once, fascinated by how large it looks in his small hand, and gives it a first, tentative tug. Harry hums and shifts, his legs falling open.

Remembering what Harry had done earlier, Louis rubs the palm of his hand over the tip before stroking down Harry’s cock, relishing the way he lets out a quiet moan and breathes in sharply. Doing it again, Louis starts building a rhythm, glancing at Harry now and then to see if what he’s doing is correct. 

“Are you okay? You’re quiet,” Louis asks, slowing down his hand when he sees the almost pained expression of Harry’s face. “Am I doing this right?” Louis frowns, realising he might have been the odd one making too much noise. “Was I too loud?”

“Wh—what?” Harry opens his eyes, focusing with difficulty on Louis. “No, no, you were fine.” He shuts his eyes again. “I can’t… I can’t talk when you’re… just keep going.”

Louis giggles, pleased to see the effect he has on Harry, and he quickens his hand, tightening his grip and smiling proudly when he finally manages to draw a loud moan from Harry. Doing what he does to himself when he masturbates and hoping it’ll be fine for Harry, Louis uses his free hand to run it up Harry’s chest and touch one of Harry’s second set of nipples, watching it curiously. Harry opens his eyes once more, a look of surprise on his face.

“Not as sensitive as you,” he explains, hissing when Louis runs his thumb over the head of his cock, rubbing at the slit a few times the way he likes on himself. “Come here,” Harry croaks, pulling Louis by the shoulder and crashing their lips together.

Louis hums against his lips and licks into Harry’s mouth, cramping from the angle his arm is now in, but continuing to stroke Harry’s cock, encouraged by the soft moans and sharp puffs of air that he lets out as they snog. Louis can feel Harry shaking underneath him and he quickens his hand even more, guessing that he’s close and letting out a gasp of surprise when he feels the warm come splash on his hand as Harry lets out a moan into his mouth, gripping him tightly, fingernails digging into his back.

Louis rolls off of him and watches his soiled hand with a frown, glancing at Harry. Harry turns out to be useless, lying on his back with his eyes closed, breathing hard and completely oblivious to Louis’ questioning next to him. The thing is, he’s curious about the taste. He’s never licked his own off his hand before because he’d always thought it was a bit gross, but Harry seemed to enjoy it when Louis came in his mouth – and the fact that he did _that_ will need to be further explored and freaked out over later – so he’s curious now that he has the possibility to try it. Except that, well, he’s had sex education classes and he’s, like, 60% sure he could catch an STD that way if Harry has one. The remaining 40% is some confusion regarding AIDS and blood and he realises with horror that he’s not properly equipped, knowledge-wise, to be lying naked and post-coitus in a bed with someone else. 

At least he can’t get pregnant. There’s always that.

Seeing that Harry still isn’t fully back, Louis gets up and heads for his bathroom to wash his hand clean and bring a washcloth for Harry. He glances at himself in the mirror briefly, blushing to see his swollen lips and tousled, water-ruined hair, before returning to his bedroom and climbing back on the bed, kissing the butterfly in the middle of Harry’s chest before gently washing him clean, smiling when Harry cracks open an eye.

“Welcome back,” he says softly. “You’d think you’re the one who had sex for the first time.”

“Give me a break, I’m older,” Harry says lazily, stretching before pulling Louis closer and holding him tightly.

Louis curls up against him, nuzzling his neck and kissing it softly. He throws the washcloth off the side of the bed. He’ll worry about it later. “Stay for the night,” he whispers against his skin.

Harry nods. “Okay. I’ll make pancakes tomorrow morning.”

“You have a weird thing with feeding me.”

“No, I just love pancakes,” he whispers, kissing Louis’ forehead.

Louis laughs, moving off Harry so he can tug the duvet down and slip underneath, holding it up for Harry to do the same. Once they’re both under, he curls up into his side once more and sighs happily, falling asleep almost immediately, helped by Harry’s fingers scratching his scalp soothingly. The last thing he thinks to say before he’s asleep is ‘I want cake’ and he sighs happily when Harry kisses his forehead in reply.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hell to write, but I really, really love the way it turned out, so much that it's now one of my favourites. Originally, back when I was writing this as a one-shot, this chapter and the one for next week were one continuous scene, but it was much, much too long in chapter form, so I had to cut them in the middle. There's no cliffhanger, though, so don't worry.
> 
> I'd apologize for making Nick Grimshaw an asshole, but, like, no.

Two more weeks into the relationship and Louis is starting to feel like they’re having an old-timey, long-distance romance. The Harry he sees in his backyard every day is not the Harry he’s dating; the former is a model employee who lifts his hat in greeting whenever Louis or his sisters walk by, but he keeps a professional face on and acts like he doesn’t know Louis at all. The latter, on the other hand, sends text messages to Louis in the middle of the afternoon saying things like ‘ _behind the shed in 10_ ’ or ‘ _not fair to tan shirtless where I can see you :(_ ‘ and he always looks like he can’t quite believe Louis shows up where he asked him to. Secret meetings are the only thing they can manage, to Louis’ dismay. He can’t justify going up to London too frequently, not when his two known friends don’t live there, and he can’t exactly invite Harry over, not with the wanker around.

To make up for it, they’ve found the perfect hideaway: at the eastern most corner of the backyard is a tool shed. It can’t be seen from the house and the trees surrounding it hide it from the other houses, as well, giving them a semblance of intimacy. It’s shock full of spiders and other critters, though, so more often than not Louis ends up staring at a daddy-long-leg while Harry goes down on him, willing it not to move until he’s come. All that hiding and secret rendezvous is thrilling, if Louis is honest. He feels devious and bold, and more alive than he has in his entire life. He lives for the moment when their eyes meet and an electric shock goes through his body, setting his nerves on fire and making him forget whatever it was he was doing, be it braid Phoebe’s hair or read a magazine. He knows that a few minutes later, he’ll get a message from Harry and that within the hour he’ll be pushed up against rough wood and covered in bruising kisses as he clings to Harry for dear life.

What helps the brilliant mood he’s been for two weeks is also the fact that he hasn’t had to jack off since that first night in his bed. Harry takes care of that for him almost daily. He’s pretty brilliant, Louis thinks, and what’s more brilliant is that he’s about to spend the weekend at Harry’s. He grins at Zayn as their cabbie inches through the thick traffic they hit as soon as they entered London, only to be met by a roll of eyes and a shove to the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re about to get so much sex. Stop looking so smug,” Zayn mutters, patting Louis’ thigh.

“So much sex,” Louis repeats. “I get why you’re such a nymphomaniac, now.”

“M’not!” 

Louis snorts, shaking his head. “I’m your _roommate_ , I know what I’m talking about. What about this summer?”

“This summer was a life experience, not a proof of anything.”

“Yeah, sure,” Louis drawls. “Whatever you say. Thanks for coming with me, by the way.”

“I’m only coming for the free drinks and to see the guy that makes you so happy,” Zayn replies with a shrug.

Louis grins even more and leans across the seat to hug Zayn, hanging on even as he tries to push him off. “You’re a big softie.”

“Piss off,” Zayn snaps and Louis plants a loud kiss to his cheek before letting go, taking out his phone to text Harry that he’ll be late because of the traffic.

Louis is surprised and unsettled when there’s no booming music coming from Harry’s flat when he reaches his floor. When he was invited to a ‘ _small party with all my favourite people, you better be there_ ’, he’d honestly expected, well, a house party. That’s what cool young adults in their mid-twenties do, right? They throw small house parties all the time and they hook up in bathrooms. That’s what people in their twenties do, or at least, that was what Louis had imagined, but when he’s let into the flat, he’s shocked to see that there are only maybe five or six people there, including Harry and Niall, and that no one looks like they might do a line of cocaine on the toilet seat before the end of the night. 

Actually, the table is set for dinner, a large bouquet of colourful flowers in its centre. Louis doesn’t recognise them, but he is confident they all mean friendship, hospitality and other such things. Harry is busy cooking while the guests are discussing in small groups, glasses of wine in hand. They’re all dressed for a nice dinner with friends and Louis feels out of place instantly. He dressed up for a _party_ , squeezing into his tightest pair of jeans (white, for fuck’s sake, he looks like a prick) and a thin striped shirt. He’s simultaneously over- and underdressed for the night and it’s only the sight of Harry, curls made wilder by the steam from the pots he’s supervising, that keeps Louis from running away. He glances at Zayn and sees his worry reflected in the man’s brown eyes. Zayn, too, is dressed inappropriately, rocking a leather jacket and black skinny jeans that make him look like he walked out of a Lana Del Rey music video.

The woman who let them in is still holding the door and Louis realises he’s in the way with a squeak. He moves away and she shuts it, and it’s only then that Louis sees her face clearly. Underneath the lavender hair, the face is unmistakable.

“Are you Harry’s sister?” he asks, shuffling his feet, hands clasped behind his back to give himself a semblance of proper countenance.  
She smiles, the same dimpled smile as Harry, and Louis knows even before she holds out her hand for him to shake. “You’ve got a good eye. I’m Gemma, nice to meet you. You are…?” She squints at him for a second before smiling even wider. “Are you Louis?”

He nods, shaking her hand. “Yes, that’s me. I’m Louis,” he replies lamely, wondering where his conversation skills have gone. “Nice to meet you, Gemma. This is my mate, Zayn.”

She looks Zayn up and down – a completely normal reaction to meeting Zayn for the first time – and smiles at him. “Hello, Zayn. Nice to meet you. And you,” she adds, turning to Louis with a frown that’s uncannily similar to Harry’s, “none of that shaking hand bullshit, you’re family. Come here,” she says before pulling Louis into a hug. He squawks and lets her hug him, awkwardly wrapping his arms around her for a second before she lets go and pats his arm. “You’re even cuter than I thought you’d be.”

Before Louis can reply, a booming voice cuts him, resonating through the flat and drawing everyone’s attention to the four of them when it asks: “Who’s the twink? Or, rather, whose is the twink?”

Louis looks up at the tall, skinny man who spoke. He looks to be in his early thirties and Louis instantly dislikes him. When Louis meets his eyes, he winks, which makes him blush and take a step back.

“Piss off,” Niall cuts in, wrapping an arm around Louis’ shoulders protectively. “Come on, Lou, Haz is waiting for you.”

Louis only has time to grab Zayn by the lapel of his jacket before Niall drags him away towards the kitchen. “Niall,” he says, “this is my friend Zayn, he came here as moral support.”

Niall nods at Zayn, eyes lingering on him for a second. “Good. With Nick here, you’ll need it,” he says, voice dark. “Styles,” he calls above the din of conversations once they manage to make their way to the kitchen despite the people and the table filling up most of the space, “your boy is here.” He takes Louis’ bag from him and disappears towards their rooms.

Harry puts down the knife he was using to cut tomatoes and turns around, smiling widely and eyes brightening at the sight of Louis. “Lou! Come here, come here, I can’t touch you because my hands are gross, give me a hug, come on,” he says, making Louis laugh.

He walks up to Harry and wraps his arms around his waist, hugging him tightly and smiling against his chest when Harry returns it. After a moment spent inhaling Harry’s scent and relishing the warmth of his embrace like the sap he is, Louis takes a step back and rises on the tip of his toes to kiss Harry, feeling him smile against his lips as he pecks them.

“Let me look at you, sunshine,” Harry says, taking a step back and looking Louis up and down. “White trousers, love it.” He spins his finger and Louis obliges, slowly turning on himself, his cheeks pink from the attention Harry is giving him. He feels like he’s the only person in the room and he absolutely loves it. “Gorgeous. And this is…”

“Zayn,” Louis answers, pulling Zayn closer with a hand on his back. “I brought him for moral support, if that’s alright?”

Harry and Zayn look at each other in silence for a moment and Louis feel his stomach churning. This is what he dreaded: Harry and Zayn finding each other attractive. He kept Zayn away from Harry before they were together so he had no chance to get his hands on Harry first, but he realises now that it was stupid; he pales in comparison to Zayn and he wouldn’t blame Harry for changing his mind over whom he’d rather call ‘sunshine’.

It’s over in a second, though, and then Harry is beaming at Zayn. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Zayn. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“So have I,” Zayn says, and only someone who knows him as well as Louis does could tell that his tone is dripping with sarcasm. He gives Louis a pointed look that says ‘ _you didn’t tell me enough about him, you little shit_ ’. It was definitely a good move to keep Zayn away from Harry while he was single.

Harry chuckles and nods before going back to his cutting board and winking at Louis when their eyes meet. “There’s wine on the counter if you want some and a plate of hors d’oeuvres is going around, if there’s any left. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Louis gives a final, quick kiss to Harry’s cheek before leaving the kitchen with Zayn, grinning when he sees Niall coming over with two glasses of wine.

“For you, kids. I’m Niall, by the way, Harry’s roommate. Louis forgot to introduce me,” Niall tells Zayn, handing Louis his glass of wine unceremoniously so he can shake Zayn’s hand.

“Cool,” Zayn says, sounding like it’s the most uncool thing he’s ever heard. He takes the wine Niall offers and takes a long sip, making a face when he’s done. “I’m not sure this can be called wine.”

Louis frowns. “You promised you’d be nice,” he hisses. “This isn’t being nice. Drink the bloody wine and keep your mouth shut about it. Not everyone can afford the stuff we drink.”

“I love your jacket,” Niall says, cutting off whatever Zayn was about to say. He’s smiling at Zayn almost stupidly, which, okay. Louis thought Niall was straight, but he’s currently sporting the face people attracted to Zayn usually wear.

“I’ll go see Harry,” Louis says, enjoying the glare Zayn shoots him. “You boys get to know each other, yeah?”

With that, Louis saunters back to Harry, feeling mischievous and proud of himself. If Zayn is in the mood to be a prick, Louis will give him a reason to act like one. He puts his glass on the counter before hoisting himself up to sit on it, returning the grin Harry gives him when he sees him.

“Lost your friend already?” Harry asks, offering Louis a raspberry.

Louis opens his mouth and lets Harry put the raspberry in, lifting his eyebrows suggestively when their eyes meet. “He’s with Niall,” Louis says, chewing on the fruit. “You didn’t tell me Niall’s gay.”

“He’s not,” Harry says, sounding surprised. “He’s aggressively straight.”

“Which is why he’s mooning over Zayn?” Louis nods towards them and Harry turns around to watch Niall listen intently to what Zayn is telling him, eyes wide and goofy smile on his face.

“To his defence, Zayn is very attractive.”

“More than me?” Louis asks, feigning an innocent tone to hide that he worries about the answer.

“No,” Harry replies without hesitation, kissing Louis’ shoulder. “No one is more attractive than you.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I almost believed you.”

“You should. To me, you’re the most beautiful man in the world.” Harry smiles at him, earnest and open like he gets and Louis’ heart skips a beat. 

He reaches forward and pulls Harry in by the neck, kissing him fully. “I’m glad I’m sleeping over,” he whispers against Harry’s lips, humming happily when Harry kisses him back enthusiastically, pulling Louis’ lip with his teeth.

“I’m glad you are,” he whispers back, dropping his knife and stepping in between Louis’ legs, pressing up against him and deepening the kiss when Louis pulls on his hair to dip his head back, crossing his ankles behind Harry.

“Get a room!” the man from earlier – Nick? – calls from across the flat, causing Harry to sigh through his nose and step away.

“Who’s that?” Louis asks, almost angrily. He really dislikes the man more and more with every passing second.

“That’s Nick, he’s…” Harry sighs again. “He’s my ex. The one I was telling you about.”

“The cheating one?” Louis blurts out, in shock. “What’s he doing here?”

“We still have friends in common,” Harry says with a shrug. “He’s just a pathetic prick, though, don’t pay attention to anything he says. He’s a terrible person.”

“You don’t say,” Louis snaps, glaring at Nick. “He cheated on you, it’s obvious that he’s not only a terrible person, but also a complete moron.”

Harry chuckles at that, kissing Louis’ cheek. “I really like you a ridiculous amount, you know that?”

Louis blushes and lets out a giggle, the change of topic giving him emotional whiplash. “You do?”

“A ridiculous amount, yeah. That’s like, at least ten times ‘a lot’.”

“Only ten?” Louis asks, giddy.

“Well, we’ve only been together for a month, give it time. Last week, it was nine times. It just keeps growing.”

“D’you think there’s a limit to the size it’ll take?” Louis tries to look serious as he asks, but he can’t fight the smile pulling at his lips.

“I don’t know, we’ll have to see.” Harry winks again and offers Louis his glass of wine. “Drink up, Nick’s the one who bought the booze, let’s make sure he can’t leave with any of it and save money that way.” Louis giggles and takes his glass, drinking a long sip that makes Harry smile proudly. “Good boy,” he adds before going back to cooking. “Have you met my sister yet?”

“Yeah, she’s the one who let me in. She said I’m cuter than she’d imagined. Sounds like you’ve been describing me wrong.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “But, my love, words can’t do justice to your beauty.”

“Can’t they? What about showing her a picture?”

“I don’t have any.”

Louis rolls his eyes and sighs, holding out his hand. “Alright, give me your mobile, I’ll take a selfie so you can show it to people.”

Harry bites his lip, looking hesitant. “You won’t take a selfie with my mobile.”

“Why not?” Louis asks, waiting before he gets offended. Harry must have a good reason, he mustn’t jump to conclusions and assume that Harry doesn’t want a picture of him on his mobile because he thinks, deep down, that Louis is ugly.

Taking his mobile out of his pocket, Harry hands it to Louis. “Because it doesn’t have a camera.”

Louis takes the mobile slowly, staring at it in horror. It’s a flip phone, grey and beat up, and when he flips it open, the screen lights up in green and black. He looks up at Harry, shock and disbelief etched on his face. “That’s your mobile?”

“It still works fine!” Harry says defensively. “I don’t have a plan, it’s prepaid, and it works perfectly fine for what I do with it.”

“But Haz, it’s ancient! Those came out when I was a child!”

“Yeah, well I was a teenager and it was a present from my nan.” Harry frowns. “You’re judging me.”

“I’m not,” Louis says immediately, realising perhaps for the first time that there’s more than just an age gap between he and Harry. “I’m just in shock.”

Harry shrugs, snatching the mobile back and shoving it in his pocket. “As long as it works, I don’t see why I should change it.”

Louis just shakes his head. “You text me with this? Even if all you’ve got is a number pad?”

“Yeah, I’m used to it.”

Biting his lip, Louis starts moving his legs back and forth, hitting the cupboard underneath him with his heels every time. “When’s your birthday?”

“February 1st, why?”

“Oh, it’s still far. I guess it could be an early Christmas present, then,” Louis says, thinking out loud.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asks, opening a cupboard next to Louis to take a tin of spices out of it.

“I’m going to buy you a new mobile.”

“No,” Harry immediately replies. “You won’t. I don’t need one.”

Louis squints. “You sort of do,” he says teasingly. “Yours belongs in the British Museum.”

“It’s not a fossil!” Harry snaps, clearly annoyed. Louis bites his lip and frowns. “I don’t need a iPhone or whatever you think I need.”

“But iPhones are fun! We could send each other pictures. All sorts of pictures,” he adds, smiling suggestively. 

They might have only been having sex for two weeks, but Louis is slowly learning how to get Harry to do what he wants. All he needs to do is bite his lip and wiggle his hips and he’s got Harry wrapped around his finger.

“I don’t need a new mobile,” Harry insists. “Just drop it, alright?”

His tone of voice makes Louis recoil. He sounds truly annoyed and Louis regrets having pushed him. He ruined the mood. “I’m sorry. Forget it.”

Harry hums, stirring a pot with a bit too much force, making the contents overflow and fall on the stove with a sizzling noise. “Shit,” Harry growls, reaching for a rag. “Lou, can you get me the milk, please?”

Louis jumps off the counter and walks up to the fridge, frowning when he opens it. It’s almost empty, the few items in it mostly condiments or shrivelled greens. He picks up the carton of milk and brings it to Harry, still unsure whether he’s been forgiven. “You guys are due for groceries,” Louis comments lightly, trying to gauge Harry’s mood.

“Yeah, we know,” Harry says, a bit roughly. 

Swallowing thickly, Louis picks up his glass of wine and leaves the kitchen without another word, going up to Zayn to try and join his conversation. He’s still where he left him, stuck in a conversation with Niall, but he looks like he might actually be enjoying himself, now, which, okay. Louis didn’t expect this to happen. He expected Zayn to despise everyone, _especially_ Niall and his snapbacks. Against all odds, though, they seem to be really hitting it off, if the enthusiastic way with which Zayn is waving his hands around as he talks is anything to go by.

“Hello boys,” Louis says, cutting Niall off. “What are we talking about?”

“The latest Marvel movie,” Zayn answers.

“Oh.” Zayn had gone with Country Club Liam without even asking if Louis wanted to come along. “I haven’t seen it yet, is it good?”

It was the wrong question to ask. Louis spends the next five minutes watching Niall and Zayn talk over each other as they try to tell Louis about the movie, completing each other’s sentences and grinning when they do, and ugh. Louis is going to throw up if they keep this up.

“I’ll have to take Harry with me to see it,” Louis says once they’re done gushing over the movie, feeling a bit left out that his best mate is getting along better with a guy he met twenty minutes ago than with him.

“Harry doesn’t like superheroes,” Niall replies, making Louis frown and finish his glass of wine.

Next to him, Niall and Zayn pick up their conversation without trying to include Louis and he understands the message and walks away, unsure where to go. Nick is with Harry in the kitchen, a hand on the small of his back as he talks to him in a low voice. The sight stirs something hot and painful in Louis’ stomach and he frowns, a knot forming in his throat. Nick is standing really close to Harry and Harry’s doing nothing to push him away, letting the older man crowd his space and touch him in ways that only Louis should be allowed to touch him. He almost goes over, but then he remembers that they fought and stays rooted on the spot, glaring at Nick and hoping the saying ‘if looks could kill’ might magically become literal for his sake.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Gemma asks brightly, making him jump.

Louis shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

Gemma laughs. “I’m almost convinced. Did my brother kick you out of the kitchen?”

“In a way,” Louis replies evasively. “Note to self: don’t make fun of his prehistoric mobile.”

“Quick tip: don’t mention money around him. Ever.”

A mistake Louis has done three times already. Well. “Oh. Okay, I won’t. Is there any wine left?” he asks to steer the conversation away from his stupid mistakes.

“Yeah.” She grabs a bottle from the coffee table stashed away between the couch and the wall and then hesitates. “Are you old enough to drink?”

Louis rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. “I’m 19.”

Gemma’s eyes widen. “Oh, bloody hell, you’re ten years younger than me. That’s not fair.” She fills Louis’ glass, pouting in a way that reminds Louis of Harry and makes his heart swell.

“I’m sorry?” he says coyly, batting his eyelashes.

“You better be.” Gemma sighs.

Arms wrap around Louis’ shoulders and he leans back on instinct, looking up and smiling at Harry. Harry pokes his tongue out in return and Louis feels his stomach unclench to see he might be forgiven.

“He better be what?” Harry asks, kissing Louis’ cheek.

“Sorry for being so young,” Gemma replies, shaking her head. “He’s six years younger than you, Haz, did you know?”

Harry shrugs; Louis can feel it and he leans even more into Harry, letting him hold up most of his weight. “I know. But he’s cute, isn’t he? Besides, Nick had six years on me and no one said anything.”

“We regretted it, too, didn’t we?”

Louis looks between Gemma and Harry, his lips pressed together. Unsure of what to do, he says the first thing to cross his mind: “I’m not going to cheat on Harry.”

Harry kisses Louis’ temple and presses his nose in his hair a few seconds. “I know you won’t, sunshine.”

Gemma bursts out laughing. “‘ _Sunshine_ ’?”

Flipping off his sister, which makes Louis blush, an apology on the tip of his tongue, Harry lets go of Louis. “Dinner’s almost ready. I need to check on it. Come on, Lou.”

Louis follows Harry obediently, abandoning Gemma to her laughter and keeping quiet. He leans against the counter, out of Harry’s way, and watches him work until he can’t take the silence any longer and finishes his wine, giving himself courage to speak.

“I’m sorry about earlier, Harry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Harry clangs two plates together loudly and Louis sees him tense up. “It’s okay, baby. It’s all forgotten.” He gives Louis a smile over his shoulder, but Louis can see it’s fake.

“I won’t talk about money around you anymore. I’m sorry.” Louis hates how small his voice comes out. He hates fights. “Do you forgive me?”

“I said it was okay, Lou,” Harry says, abandoning the plates to walk up to Louis. “There’s nothing to forgive. It was just a bit of teasing that I took the wrong way. You’re allowed to tease me, you’re my boyfriend and I lo… I like you a ridiculous amount, remember?”

Louis smiles and nods before getting up on his tiptoes to kiss Harry’s nose. “Okay. Feed us, now.”

With his usual luck, Louis ends up sitting opposite Nick, squeezed between Harry and Zayn. All hopes he might have had that Zayn would save him from Nick are gone; he’s too busy talking with Niall to pay even the barest hint of attention to Louis. His aloof façade has fallen and he’s being his usual, charming albeit slightly dorky self, which seems to work wonders on Niall, who looks at Zayn like he’s Apollo incarnate. As for Harry, he’s got guests to entertain and quirky anecdotes to tell, and Louis knows that sooner or later he’ll meet Nick’s eyes by accident and he’ll try to talk to him. He can feel it coming, can feel the man’s eyes on him, and it’s only a matter of time before he has to choose whether he’ll be hypocritically pleasant or horrifyingly rude to the man who broke his boyfriend’s heart.

So, Louis drinks wine and stuffs himself, hoping that if his mouth is full Nick won’t talk to him. He’s on his third – fourth? – glass of wine and enjoying a pleasant buzz that leaves him feeling warm and sleepy. Harry cooked a three-course meal for them and every part of it is delicious, prompting Louis to get a second serving of everything just to see the proud look in Harry’s eyes when he asks for more. They’ll have to roll him to Harry’s bedroom later, or he’ll be like the guy at the end of that Monty Python movie, but he doesn’t care: it makes his boyfriend happy to feed him so he’ll keep eating.

“Lou,” Harry says, running his hand down Louis’ back.

“What is it, love?” Louis replies, looking up from his plate to smile brightly at Harry. Through the wine, Harry’s eyes seem greener than they’ve ever been, the flame from the candle dancing in them enticingly.

“I want to introduce you to my mates,” he explains, his hand still on Louis’ back. He motions to a ginger man who waves at Louis. “This is Ed, we met through Niall. And those two lovely ladies here are friends of Gemma who only came here for the free food.” Harry pokes his tongue out at them, making them laugh. He leans closer to Louis. “I don’t know their names, so we’ll pretend it’s normal I didn’t tell you,” he whispers before kissing Louis’ cheek. “Louis’ my boyfriend, everyone, in case you couldn’t already tell.”

“We could,” Gemma deadpans, making everyone laugh. Louis blushes.  
“Yeah, well, I wanted to officially introduce him because I’m hoping he’ll stick around for a while.” Harry takes Louis’ hand and squeezes it.

Louis returns the squeeze, glad for the physical comfort. Harry’s statement took him by surprise; he hoped, prayed and wished that Harry was serious about them, that he wanted it to happen for a long time, but he’d never said it out loud and Louis felt silly asking for confirmation. So, to be actually hearing it, to have the confirmation that he’s not just a summer fling, well. He needs Harry’s hand in his and a few minutes to process the news.

“I’ll stick around for as long as you’ll have me,” Louis replies, clearing his throat after his voice came out small and uncertain.

Harry beams at him, eyes crinkled and cheeks dimpled, and Louis returns it, biting his lip and blushing. For a moment, he forgets that there are other people in the cramped flat, he forgets everything that isn’t Harry’s eyes looking at him like he’s the only thing that exists and he never wants to look away. And then Harry’s leaning forward and Louis’ breath hitches when Harry ghosts his lips over his, making Louis chase them forward to give him a proper kiss, his free hand coming up to rest on Harry’s neck and hold him in place until he’s given Louis a satisfactory kiss.

That one kiss turns into another, then another, and Louis’ losing himself into it, his breath becoming laboured as Harry kisses him with growing intensity, and Louis had never really understood what lust was until The Night in his bed; now he understands it, can feel the _ache_ as he craves Harry’s body against his, sinking his fingers in Harry’s thick curls and pulling them only so he can hear the surprised, quiet moan that Harry lets out. The wine only serves to enhance Louis’ lust and lower his inhibitions, making him consider, if only for a brief moment, that it wouldn’t really be that bad if he slipped under the table and sucked Harry off despite the people around them because at least he’d stop feeling like his nerves are on fire.

It’s over as soon as it’s started, though, and Louis lets out a shaky sigh when Harry pulls away, giving Louis a sheepish smile and a wink. 

“Thanks for the show,” Nick snarls, smirking at them above his glass of wine, the content of which he’s swirling slowly.

“Don’t be jealous,” Louis says, pulling himself upright and narrowing his eyes at Nick. He reaches for his glass of wine and watches in horror as Harry takes it away.

“You’ve had enough,” he tells Louis in a low voice, ignoring Louis’ offended squawk as he tries to get it back, only for Harry to hold it out of his reach.

“Jealous of what?” Nick asks, letting out an arrogant laugh. “Jealous that Harry babysits you and calls it dating?”  
“No, jealous that I have him and you don’t anymore,” Louis says, guessing more than knowing for sure that this is why Nick is being a prick to him. He’d understand, he would, if Nick wanted Harry back. He’d want Harry back, too, if he’d lost him.

“If I wanted Harry back, I’d have him already, _sunshine_. A virgin isn’t much competition.” 

Louis opens his mouth to reply before closing it again, wishing he had something to say to stop Nick from continuing.

“Are you guys passed snogging, yet? Maybe some groping over the clothes? How’s that going for you, Hazza? Not too frustrated that you’re stuck with a clingy prude?”

“Hey,” Harry snaps. There’s an edge to his voice that Louis’ never heard and he sits up straighter, worried. “You can either respect Louis or leave.”

Nick laughs, giving Harry a charming smile that makes Louis feel sick to the stomach. “Come on, Haz, we’re just having a laugh. He’s a plucky one, you can be proud.”

“Behave,” is all Harry replies, relaxing his grip on Louis’ knee and pushing him with his shoulder. Louis looks up at him, relaxing when he sees the goofy smile Harry’s giving him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Except that you took my wine away,” Louis says flippantly.

“I did, yeah. You’d had enough. Do you always drink that much?”

Louis laughs to hide that he’s a bit offended. “I don’t drink that much.”

“Okay, it’s just that every time we eat together I have a hard time keeping up with you.”

Louis swallows. He’s noticed that he drinks more when he’s around Harry, but he didn’t think Harry had. “I guess you still make me nervous and wine helps,” he admits, feeling foolish and a bit like he’s being reprimanded. He doesn’t like it, doesn’t like that Nick has put in his mind the idea that maybe, perhaps, Harry’s babysitting him more than dating him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry replies, sounding sad. He takes Louis’ chin in his hand, stroking it gently, and then lifts Louis’ head to kiss him. “I don’t want to make you nervous.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m stupid.”

Harry kisses him again. “You can either respect Louis or leave,” he whispers, bumping his forehead against Louis’. Louis lets out a giggle that Harry mirrors.  
“I’m not hungry anymore,” Nick announces loudly, pushing his plate away and nearly knocking down a candle.

From his end of the table, Niall lets out a loud groan. “Shut the fuck up, Nick.”

“It’s just a joke, Jesus, people, unclench your arses.”

“Maybe you’re the one who’s not funny. Ever think of that?” Niall snaps back.

“Dessert!” Gemma nearly shouts to cover whatever Nick was about to reply. “Where is it, Haz, I’ll go get it.”

“I’ll help,” Harry tells her, kissing Louis one last time.

Louis watches the two siblings get up and then turns to Zayn, doing everything he can to avoid meeting Nick’s eyes. “Hey, Zayn, having fun?” he asks, trying to sound cheerful. He probably sounds manic.

“No,” Zayn says dully. “Niall’s okay, though.”

“Yeah? What would Country Club Liam think if he saw you with Niall right now?”

“He wouldn’t give a shit.”

From the other side of the table, Nick stretches out his hand. Niall, Zayn and Louis look at him wordlessly until he speaks up. “Hi, I’m Nick, I don’t think we’ve met… Zayn? Is that it?”

“No,” is all Zayn says before turning back to Niall, pointedly and blatantly ignoring Nick.

Louis can’t hold back his laughter so he hides it behind his hand, giggling as he watches Nick’s face contort with indignation. He’s seen dozens of guys and girls on the receiving end of Zayn’s cold shoulder, but none has been as satisfying as Nick’s reaction.

“Zayn Malik, if I didn’t know you so well, I’d be in love with you,” Louis tells him, still laughing.

“Please,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes. “You couldn’t handle me.”

“I know. I live with you and your weird obsession with cleaning. And don’t get me started on the time you spend in the bathroom!”

“You’re cheeky when you’re drunk, I don’t know if I like it.”

“Better cheeky than snogging you, no?”

Zayn scrunches up his nose. “Don’t remind me, please.”

“You guys snogged?” Niall asks, sounding too interested for Louis’ liking. He glares at him for good measure. “Don’t glare, Lou, you’re the one who brought it up. So, did you?”

“Once,” Zayn says before Louis can reply with a lie. “At a party. It wasn’t fun.”

Louis gasps. “Are you saying I was shit?!”

“No, just that it felt like I was kissing my brother.”

Harry comes back with dessert, a rich-looking chocolate mousse with raspberry syrup, saving Louis from having to answer. He’s not even remotely hungry, but it looks delicious and Harry made it, so of course Louis will eat it. There’s no question there. He’ll even take two servings so there are no leftovers. 

He comes to regret that decision exactly twenty minutes later, when he feels like his stomach is about to burst if he eats one more bite. The wine isn’t helping; his happy buzz is gone, replaced by a pounding headache and nausea.

“I think I’ll go lie down on the couch for a bit, Haz. I’m feeling sick,” he says after admitting defeat and leaving the two bites of mousse that are left on his plate.

Harry pushes back Louis’ fringe then runs his hand down Louis’ cheek, stroking it softly while he frowns with concern. “Okay. You tell me if it gets worse, baby.”

“I’ll be fine, I just ate too much, is all. It was just too good.”

With a quick peck to Harry’s lips, Louis gets up slowly and heads for the couch, falling on it rather than lying down and readjusting the cushions so he can still see what’s happening even if he’s away from the table. From his new vantage point, he has front row seats to the weird mating ritual that’s happening between Zayn and Niall, which seems to be composed of one of them flirting with the other before acting like it was a joke, only to look thrilled when the other does the same thing in response. Ed and the two girls are talking with Gemma, who is turning out to have the same mannerisms as her brother when she talks. It makes Louis smile. Harry is busy gathering up the empty plates to bring them to the kitchen, turning down anyone who offers him help, which means that Nick is left on his own and—yes, there it is, he’s noticed it, too, and he’s getting up and heading towards Louis. He lets out a sigh.

Nick sits on the coffee table, lifting his eyebrows in greetings when Louis glances at him. “You okay?”  
“Yes,” Louis replies curtly, turning his eyes to Harry and smiling fondly to see him laughing loudly at something one of his friends said.

“When’s it due?”

Tearing his eyes away from Harry, Louis looks at Nick. “What?”

“Your food baby. When’s it due?”

Louis lifts his head to look down at himself, noticing that his tummy is rounder because of the large quantity of food he ate. He looks bloody pregnant. He pulls a cushion from under his head and puts it over his stomach, crossing his arms over it. 

“Piss off,” he snaps, closing his eyes as he feels himself blushing. “Leave me alone.”

His head has started spinning from the wine and Louis puts an arm over his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh. He wishes Nick would go away, or alternatively he wishes he’d gone to lie down on Harry’s bed instead of the couch, so he could be left alone and go to sleep until his stomach ache is gone.

There’s rustling next to him and Louis sighs, lifting his arm just enough so that he can take a peek and see who’s coming closer. He’s met with a pair of green eyes and he softens, rubbing his eye and smiling at Harry.

“How’re you feeling?” Harry asks, stroking Louis’ forehead gently.

“A bit sick.”

Harry hums sadly and kisses Louis’ forehead, making him smile. “I ran down to the store to get you sparkling water, it might help.”

“Help me up.”

Harry helps Louis sit up and sits on the couch so Louis can lean against him, offering the glass of sparkling water and helping Louis drink from it before pulling him against him and holding him close. The others join them, Louis can hear them pulling chairs and the conversations getting closer, and he lets out a deep, sleepy sigh and burrows into Harry’s side, soothed by Harry’s hand running through his hair. Zayn nudges his feet until Louis pulls up his leg to let him sit on the other end of the couch, only to stretch his legs in his lap once he’s settled. Zayn puts his arms over them and strokes his shin a few times, soothingly.

“You met Louis at school, right?” Louis hears Harry say and he cracks open his eyes to see Zayn nod at him.

“Yeah, we were assigned the same dorm. We moved into a flat together during our second term, though.”

“They go to Oxford,” Harry announces proudly and Nick’s comment comes back to his mind: Harry sounds like he’s talking about his son, not his boyfriend. “Louis told me you’re the son of an ambassador or something?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn replies and Louis detects the first hints of his walls coming back up.

He pinches Harry’s waist and shakes his head, giving him a pointed look. “Zayn’s also an amazing artist,” Louis comments.

“Yeah? What kind of art?”

Zayn perks up immediately and takes his mobile out of his pocket, scooting closer and leaning over Louis to show pictures of his artwork to Harry. “Mostly graffiti, but I designed tattoos, too, like…” He shrugs off his jacket to show his arms to Harry and Louis shifts, feeling in the way of their budding friendship, both figuratively and literally. There are some scenarios in which he might have imagined himself sandwiched between Harry and Zayn, but this isn’t one of them.

“Fuck, those are awesome,” Harry tells Zayn, holding his arm to look at his tattoos properly.

“Yours are cool, too, what’s that one…?” Zayn asks, pulling up Harry’s short sleeve to uncover the ship, which he spends a long time studying. “The details, man, it’s amazing.”

Louis watches them, frowning more and more as they bond over their tattoos. He steals a glance at Niall, who looks deeply offended that someone stole his brand new toy. 

“Do you draw, too?” Zayn asks when he finally moves away, leaving room for Louis to breath and curl up more into Harry’s side, not claiming him but—alright, yes, claiming him.

“No, but I sing, sometimes. Niall and I, we make songs together, nothing serious, but yeah. It’s fun.”

“Niall?” Zayn asks, curious, and Louis chuckles to see Niall come closer immediately. “You sing, too?”

“I mostly play the guitar. Haz has got the better voice between us.”

“You never told me you sang,” Louis comments, looking up at Harry. He hopes his bitterness doesn’t show too much in his voice.

“It never came up.” Harry shrugs and kisses the top of Louis’ head.

With Harry’s reply, Louis crosses his arms over his chest and tunes out the conversation, feeling like shit. He has nothing in common with Harry. He’d never really paid attention to it before because they lived in this sort of bubble where only the two of them existed, but outside of it, they don’t fit. Harry’s the artistic type – obviously, why didn’t Louis see this one coming? – so of course he gets along well with Zayn. He was talking about music with Ed earlier, too, and it only goes to show how shit Louis is at being a boyfriend. He didn’t even know about one of the things Harry obviously loves the most. He should have asked questions about his hobbies rather than complain about his own shit life. Hell, the moment he gets a glimpse of the kind of life Harry leads, he goes and takes the piss, proving once and for all that he doesn’t deserve Harry. Louis has nothing to offer, compared to, well, everyone. He’s talentless and whiny, and spoiled, and he was foolish to think that he deserved someone as selfless, caring and fascinating as Harry.

Around him, Zayn, Niall and Harry are talking about eventually jamming together and that’s it, Louis has heard enough. He pushes himself off Harry and stands up, smoothing down his clothes.

“I’ll go to your room, alright? I’m not feeling too good.”

Without waiting for Harry’s reply, Louis takes off. He wishes nothing more than to go back home, to run out of the flat and take a cabbie back home, but he’s supposed to spend the weekend away, having fed bullshit to his stepfather about a camping trip with Zayn. He can’t go back, he’s supposed to be hundreds of miles away. Collapsing face first on Harry’s bed, Louis grabs a pillow and buries his face in it, the overwhelming smell of Harry on it bringing tears to his eyes.

Sniffling, he pulls his mobile out of his pockets and quickly thumbs a message to Perrie: _Harry and Zayn are getting along really well_.

Her reply is almost instantaneous: _How well?_

‘ _Well’ like ‘we have everything in common omg soulmates!!!!!’ I should never have introduced them :(_

_I’m sure you’re exaggerating. Have you been drinking?_

Louis sniffs disdainfully, alone in the dark. He feels pathetic. _Just a bit of wine._

_Here’s your explanation: too much wine makes you sad. Remember my birthday and how you ended up in the bathtub crying about how much you hate your life?_

With a groan, Louis throws his mobile out of reach and buries his face in the pillow once more to better enjoy his pity party. Wine doesn’t make him sad; life does.

What feels like five hours later, but must only have been one, which Louis spent brooding, the door creaks open and then closes again. The bed dips and a light clicks on. Louis turns his head and looks up at Harry, at his face, cast in a pale light that highlights the lines of concern on it.

“Are you feeling better?” Harry asks softly, stroking Louis’ back.

Louis shrugs. “You’re not with Zayn?”

Harry chuckles as he starts taking off his clothes. “No, Zayn is busy elsewhere.” When Louis doesn’t prod, Harry continues. “He’s getting to know Niall in the biblical sense.” Again, Louis stays silent. “It turns out that Niall isn’t as straight as I’d imagined. After you left, I went to do the dishes and when I returned to the couch, they were snogging. It’s a sight I’ll never be able to get out of my mind. It’s burned on my retinas forever.”

“Why, ‘cause you’re jealous?”

That stops Harry. “What?”

“You’d prefer if it was him instead of me in your bed, wouldn’t you? You guys have so much in common,” Louis says, trying to keep his tone even under the emotions.

“Well, yeah, we get along well, but I’m not…”

“You can’t deny he’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah, he is, but I’m not into him. He’s a great guy, but that’s it. What’s gotten into you?” He sits on the edge of the bed, shirtless and with his trousers undone. He looks confused and lost and it only makes Louis feel even worse.

Louis sits up and wraps his arms around his knees, looking at the plaid comforter so he doesn’t have to see the look on Harry’s face. “Tell me one thing we have in common, Harry.”

Harry frowns, but stay silent.

“I couldn’t find anything either. You’re… You’re out of my league. You’re an amazing person with a heart the size of Australia and I’m a bitter, spoiled brat who doesn’t deserve you.” Louis bites his lip, willing his tears away.

“Stop it, Louis. You need to stop putting me on a pedestal. I’m just a guy, a stupid guy with a shit job and more tattoos than common sense. I don’t know how you see me in your head, but you’re painting me as better than I am.” Harry sighs, taking Louis’ hands in his. “ _Love Actually_.”

Louis sniffles. “What?”

“We both love _Love Actually_. And _Grease_. And I’m sure if we get going, we’d find loads of movies we both love. _Titanic_?”

“I love it,” Louis admits. He swallows around the knot in his throat. “ _Notting Hill_?”

“I cried like a baby. _P.S. I Love You_?”

Louis sits up straighter, shaking his head. “So what if we both like romantic comedies, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“What more do you want? We like things in common, we’re attracted to each other, you make me laugh and we have fun together, like, I don’t know what else you think we need.”

Bowing his head, Louis shrugs. “I just… I just don’t understand why you chose me. You could have anyone,” he says in a small, weak voice.

“No, I couldn’t. Not everyone likes my frog face, you know.”

“You don’t look like a frog!” Louis cries, offended. “You’re gorgeous!”

“I sort of look like a frog. The point is, you think everyone wants me because _you_ do. And it’s the same for me, you know. It’s pretty threatening to see you being so close to Zayn. He said you’re like brothers and then I’ve got to listen to my boyfriend telling me he needs to get drunk to be comfortable around me.”

“Zayn and I aren’t like brothers. He planned a road trip in America without me. He was just saying that so Niall wouldn’t come in his pants at the idea of us snogging.” Louis swallows, biting his lip. “I’m sorry I panicked. I know you like me, I just… Wine makes me sad.”

Harry pulls him into a hug and Louis gives in without resisting, burying his face in Harry’s neck and clinging to him. “It’s okay, love. Just tell me next time before you talk yourself into thinking we’re not working. I’ll tell you all about how if I’d met you when I was younger, I’d have been so intimidated by you.”

Louis pulls out of the hug just enough to look at Harry. “What?”

“I had a crush on a guy who looked a lot like you when I was 17. He was older and all.”

“When you say he looked like me…”

“Similar haircut, similar bodies, about your height, blue eyes… But he was a terrible person.”

“And I’m not?”

Harry rolls his eyes and pinches Louis’ waist. “You’re the worst. The absolutely worst person I’ve met.”

“Hey!” Louis cries out, pushing Harry’s hand away and squirming out of his reach. “That’s not very nice!”

Harry laughs and plants a loud kiss to Louis’ forehead before getting up to finish undressing. The domesticity of the scene takes Louis’ breath away and he finds himself mirroring Harry by pulling off his shirt and squirming out of his trousers.

“I’d be easier if you got up,” Harry comments as he kneels on the bed and grabs the hems of Louis’ jeans to help him. He pulls while Louis pushes them down, and between the two of them they successfully get them off. “Yay!” Harry cheers, throwing them aside before crawling up Louis’ body to straddle his lap and take his face in his. “Are we okay?”

The laughter that Harry’s cheer had created dies at the question and Louis swallows, biting his lip. “I don’t know… Are we?”

Harry shrugs. “It worries me that you don’t see us as equals.” Before Louis can object, Harry lifts his hand. “Let me finish. I mean, it feels like you think I’m doing you a favour by dating you. That I don’t really like you. And I don’t know how to show you that I do. Like you, I mean.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do, I just need to… I need to believe my luck, is all.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck,” Harry says, scrunching up his nose. “You still seem to see me as perfect, but you’re very wrong. I’m just good at hiding my flaws.”

“We’ve already talked about your frog face.”

Harry is still straddling him, his weight warm and heavy on Louis’ thighs, and Louis hesitantly places his hands on Harry’s bare thighs, eyes darting down to look at his black briefs. He licks his lips.

“It’s more than my frog face. I don’t have any valuable degree or skills that could get me a real job, which means I’m poor. And not, like, quirky poor. I’m on welfare during the winter. That kind of poor. The non-glamorous kind.”

“There’s a glamorous kind of poor?”

“Like, hipsters. The kind who don’t own tellies and who dress in thrift shops. I’m not finished. I’m not only poor, but I’m, like, physically unable to say no to anyone. I don’t stand up for myself because I don’t like confrontations. And I reached my peak at 17. I’ve only gone downhill ever since and turned into a frog.”

Louis nods ponderingly. “Alright, I see. But those aren’t flaws, they’re just part of who you are.”

“And yet, they make me feel like you’re wasting your time with me,” Harry says and he’s smirking, the arsehole. 

“I see what you just did,” Louis replies through a sigh, rolling his eyes. He scratches down Harry’s thighs for the pleasure of seeing him lose his smugness and bite his lip.

“So stop insulting my boyfriend and saying he’s not good enough for me. I chose him and I’m sticking with my choice.” Harry presses their noses together until Louis has to go cross-eyed. He laughs and Harry does, too, before kissing him.

“It’ll take some time, but I’ll work on it, I promise,” Louis says once he stops laughing, feeling the shadow of his anxieties from earlier looming in the back of his mind. He clears his throat. “Now, when you said you’d reached your peak at 17… Do you have pictures?”

Harry groans, but gets off Louis to go get his computer, shaking his bum when he notices Louis staring. “Please don’t laugh. I was a massive dork.”

“As opposed to now?”

Dropping his laptop on the bed, Harry grabs a pillow and hits Louis with it. “I like that you’re coming out of your shell, but not that you’re insulting me. I miss the bashful, star struck Louis who choked on his drinks when I smiled at him.”

Louis smiles coyly. “He’s still there. He’s just careful not to have any drinks nearby when you’re feeling flirty.”

Harry pushes Louis with his shoulder before pulling his laptop closer, readjusting the power chord before he opens the lid and powers it on. “No comments on my computer. It’s a veteran.”

“What war did it fight?” Louis asks, biting his lip against the comment that threatened to bubble out of him at the sight of the Windows XP start up screen.

“My puberty,” Harry replies lightly, but he shoots Louis a glance that’s pregnant with meaning.

“Oh god, Harold, that’s disgusting.” Louis shoves Harry once, then a second time, then a third, finally satisfied that he properly conveyed how disgusted he is at the thought of the years and years of—of scum crusted in the keys of the computer.

Harry only laughs, tapping his fingers on the computer’s plastic casing as he waits for it to boot up. “You’ve got to be patient with it, its days of glory are well behind.”

At last, after a solid five minutes of distressing noises and blank screens, the computer boots up to reveal a picture of Harry with his mother and his sister as the wallpaper. Louis coos and Harry’s cheeks turn pink as he quickly opens his pictures folder and starts scrolling through it. He hovers over a thumbnail and turns to Louis, face serious.

“Alright. This picture was taken when I was shopping with friends and on the phone with my mum, I think. Don’t laugh.” 

He clicks open [the picture](https://38.media.tumblr.com/3f05d1a4fc45c9348377b81eaec56aa2/tumblr_nb7bc3W7NS1ts5g0mo1_500.jpg) and Louis’ breath catches in his throat. He scoots closer to get a better look at Harry’s wide eyes, plump cheeks and cherry red lips, framed by fluffy curls. He’s wearing a white scarf and a thick brown cardigan, and he looks like every boy Louis has ever fantasised about since he knew what fantasising was.

“Oh my god, Haz,” he breathes out, stroking the screen with the tip of his finger. “You were so cute! Look at you! You’re such a baby, your cheeks… oh my god!” He’s squealing, but he can’t stop it, just like he can’t tear his eyes away. “Do you have any others?”

Pursing his lips, Harry opens [another picture](https://31.media.tumblr.com/5a3ef6f8a6535a12af6614992590a03e/tumblr_nb7bbkhUZ81ts5g0mo1_500.jpg), this time of him wearing a purple hoodie and a knitted hat in the shape of a bear. Louis has to put his hands over his mouth to hold back the high-pitched noise he almost let out.

“I would have had such a massive, embarrassing crush on you,” Louis muses, stroking the screen softly once more. He honestly can’t believe his eyes, can’t believe how beautiful Harry has always been; Louis’ own pictures from when he was 17 should probably be destroyed using nuclear power so they can’t harm anyone, and then there’s Harry who looked like a cherub. No wonder he grew up to be such a handsome man.

“See what I mean by reaching my peak at 17?” Harry deadpans.

Louis pulls the laptop closer to get a better look. The power chord gets stuck on the corner of the mattress, though, and when Louis pulls harder it unplugs. The computer shuts down without a warning and Louis gasps, turning to Harry with wide eyes. “Did I break it?”

“No, no, s’just the battery’s dead so it always needs to be plugged in. Give it here.”

Harry grabs the computer and puts it back on the floor where he took it before coming back to the bed and slumping against his pillows, looking a bit dejected.

“Are you sure I didn’t break it? You look upset.”

“M’not,” Harry mumbles before he sighs. “It’s okay if you prefer what I looked like at 17. I don’t mind.”

Louis barks out a laugh before he sees that Harry looks truly upset. “I don’t. You were cute, but now you’re… you take my breath away, Haz. You’re gorgeous, you’re sexy, you’re everything a boy could dream of.”

“It’s all the wine you drank that’s talking.”

“No, that was sober Louis. But the wine wonders if I can give you a blowjob, though. The wine thinks it’d be a wonderful idea and it’s letting me ask you because it has fewer inhibitions than me.”

Harry lets out a gasp and nods, pulling Louis by the arms to kiss him. “Your first one. It’s a big event, we should celebrate,” Harry mutters against his lips.

“I’ll celebrate by trying not to choke, thank you very much,” Louis pipes. He runs his fingers through Harry’s hair, pushing it away from his forehead, before leaning in for a quick kiss. “It’s quite stressful, to be honest. I won’t be good.”

“Don’t worry about any of that, sunshine. Even if you were terrible, which I know you won’t be, it’d still be good because it’s coming from you. So just relax and have fun, yeah?” Harry sits up a bit straighter, looking serious all of a sudden. “I wanted to tell you and now’s a good time, I suppose. A couple of weeks ago, when I decided I was going to woo you, I got myself tested and I’m clean. I’m not saying we should, you know, be reckless, but I don’t have any, like, STDs or whatever. So you don’t have to worry.”

“Oh, okay. I… yeah. I was wondering. Like, in my bed the other night, when you… when you swallowed, I was, hum, well, I didn’t lick yours, right? Because I didn’t know. If I should.” Louis rubs the back of his neck, letting out a nervous laugh.

“I’m monogamous and I’m clean, you can if you want.”

Louis nods and climbs on top of Harry, enjoying the smile Harry gives him when he straddles him and bends down to press a slow, tender kiss to his lips. “Look at us, having a grown-up conversation like grown-ups. We’re so adult.”

“Saying how adult you are kind of cancels the fact, though.”

“Hush,” is all Louis replies before going in for another kiss, feeling like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Harry moves his hands to Louis’ arse – his favourite thing to touch, Louis has come to realise – and strokes it as he kisses back, digging his fingers in the flesh until Louis’ breath hitches and he pushes back against Harry’s hands. Letting out a pleased hum, Harry slips his hands underneath Louis’ brief, pushing them down while scraping his nails on Louis’ skin, making him shiver and kiss Harry harder. Lowering himself on top of Harry completely, Louis starts slowly grinding his hips down, enjoying the noises Harry lets out with every roll of his hips. 

His entire world gets reduced to Harry’s lips and Harry’s warm skin underneath him and Harry’s hands stroking and scratching every inch of Louis’ body. Harry’s touching him reverently, like he can’t get enough, like he wants to crawl under Louis’ skin, and it makes Louis’ heart hammer in his chest. He’s forgetting to breath in between the feverish kisses they share, his fingers sunk into Harry’s curls to keep his head where he wants it. It’s too much, too fast, their hips grinding through the fabric of their briefs and between the wine and Harry’s body pliant and responsive underneath him, Louis’ head begins to spin and he pulls out of the kiss with a gasp, resting his forehead against Harry’s, eyes closed and breath laboured.

“I need…” he pants, “ I need a moment.”

“Okay,” is all Harry replies, dragging the tips of his fingers up and down Louis’ back, barely touching his skin and raising goose bumps on it.

Louis shifts and whines through his nose when their cocks brush, forgetting for a moment his initial plan and rolling his hips down once more, swallowing the small gasp that escapes Harry’s lips with a kiss.

“I want…” Louis rolls off Harry, running a hand down his face to try and clear his mind, “I want to blow you.”

“I’m not going to stop you,” Harry replies, smiling goofily. He moves without a warning to take off his underwear and Louis watches as his cock springs free, bobbing in the air for a second before it rests flat against Harry’s smooth stomach.

“Okay. Okay,” Louis says, taking off his own briefs before moving in to kiss Harry one more time so he forgets he’s feeling self-conscious to be naked with him. “I’m going to do that, now.”

He’s met with an encouraging smile, so he nods and kisses Harry’s lips one more time, then his jaw, moving down to kiss his neck, humming in approval when Harry moves his head, exposing more of his neck for Louis to kiss.

“Can I…” he asks, sucking lightly, waiting for permission to leave a mark. 

“Yes!” Harry replies enthusiastically, nodding and almost hitting his chin on Louis’ head. 

Louis nods, too, resolutely, and he attaches his lips to Harry’s neck, sucking on the skin below his jaw. He’s pleasantly surprised to hear Harry let out a quiet gasp and feel him shift underneath him. It makes him feel adventurous and bold and he scrapes his teeth over the spot he’s marked, relishing the way Harry whines. Pulling back to see what he’s done, Louis rubs his thumb over the reddened skin, smirking proudly. He then resumes kissing down Harry’s neck, moving to the other side and dragging his teeth against the skin just to make Harry gasp out again.

Taking a hold of Louis’ shoulders, his nails digging into his skin in a way that makes Louis shiver, Harry licks his lips. “You can bite.”

Louis nods again, rubbing his nose against Harry’s neck before he gently bites his collarbone; the noise Harry lets out goes straight to his cock. He does it again, harder, and Harry squirms under him, his breath coming out loud and ragged. Doing it one more time, Louis bites as hard as he dares, hearing Harry moan at the same time as the taste of blood fills his mouth.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Haz, I didn’t mean to do it that hard, I…”

Harry shuts him up by hooking a hand behind his neck and pulling him into a kiss, his tongue pushing passed his lips and roaming in Louis’ mouth, licking and insistent. Louis’ toes curl and he moans, trying to pull back only to be held in place by Harry’s firm grip on his neck.

When he finally lets go, Louis’ head his spinning and he isn’t sure he remembers his name. The look on Harry’s face is almost reverent and Louis takes note of the fact that Harry likes to be bitten _hard_.

“Do you mind?” Louis asks, flippant, and it earns him a small slap on the bum. He gasps, feigning indignation to hide that it did _things_ to him, oh my god, does this mean he likes being spanked? “I was doing something.”

Harry chuckles and lets go of Louis, raising his arms above his head, his right hand holding his left wrist. “No touching, alright.”

“I didn’t—” Louis takes in the sight, letting his eyes travel over Harry’s outstretched body on display for Louis, and he bites his lip. “Okay. Yeah, no touching,” he repeats, in a small voice he tries to keep steady.

He bends down and kisses the star tattooed inside Harry’s arm, nipping at it until Harry hisses. Louis kisses his nose in atonement and then crawls down his body, kissing both of his bird tattoos before dragging his teeth down the length of the butterfly on his chest as he starts wondering how he’ll go about giving head to Harry.

Well, no, not… he knows how to give head, he’s been on the receiving end of it and he has a vague idea of what needs to be done. The question is rather if he should lie on his belly in between Harry’s legs, or maybe have him sit by the edge of the bed and kneel on the floor? Harry’s done both to him, once on his bed and hen knelt in the dirt as he pushed Louis against the wall of the shed in his backyard, and Louis had always imagined that the first time he went down on a guy, he’d do it down on his knees, but now, with Harry laid out and offered to Louis, well, he doesn’t know what to do.

“Stop overthinking it,” Harry says, nudging Louis’ hip with his knee. 

“I wasn’t…” Louis trails off, smiling guiltily. He settles between Harry’s legs, his breath hitching when Harry tightens his legs around him.

Louis begins by taking Harry’s cock in his hand, stroking it a few times and watching, entranced, as always, at the size of it in his hand. He runs his thumb over the head, petting Harry’s hip when he squirms, and begins lowering himself, unfolding his body so that he’s lying on his stomach in between Harry’s legs, his cock mere inches from his face.

Before he can overthink it again, he presses a kiss underneath the head. His eyes flick up to see Harry’s reaction, finding him biting his lip with a look of awe on his face. That encourages Louis and he kisses down the length before dragging his lips back up. He checks once more that Harry is enjoying it and Harry gives him an encouraging smile.

“You’re doing great, sunshine. Don’t worry about me.”

Louis smiles and then dives in, letting the tip of Harry’s cock slip between his lips. He suckles it for a moment and listens with glee as Harry lets out breathy moans and pleased hums. He flicks his tongue against the slit and is rewarded by a loud, surprised moan and a chuckle. Convinced and reassured that he’s doing a good job, Louis sinks lower, keeping his tongue flat so that it drags along the underside as he takes more of Harry in his mouth. Harry squirms underneath him and hums, his arms twitching, but not moving down.

Slowly, Louis begins bobbing his head, taking in as much as he can – which isn’t a lot, if he’s honest – and covering the rest with his hand, moving both in time and in the process forgetting to breath. He pulls off Harry with a gasp, gulping in air for a moment before taking him back in his mouth. His lips are stretched and his jaw aches and there’s a muscle in his neck that’s protesting with each up and down motion that he does, but Louis doesn’t want to stop, not when Harry’s moaning and whining above him, arms straining against his desire to touch Louis, and Louis isn’t sure when he began rutting against the mattress, but he can’t seem to stop, seeking friction to relieve some of the lust he’s built-up because, _holy shit_ , he’s having the time of his life.

He doesn’t try taking Harry in deeper than he’s comfortable with, not wanting to gag and throw up all over his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s bed, instead making up for it by giving it all he’s got. Remembering what Harry had done the first time he cups Harry’s balls in his free hand, humming happily when Harry lets out a moaned swear and his legs trash on the bed.

“Lou… Louis, pull off. I’m close,” Harry commands and Louis glances up at him, his brows knitting. “Shit, fuck, no, don’t look at me like that, fuck, I’m going to—” Harry throws his head back, eyes on the ceiling, before he continues, “I’m not coming in your mouth, babe, not the first time.”

Louis realises that if Harry hadn’t said he wouldn’t touch, he’d be pulling Louis off right now and he’s a tad sad that he won’t get his hair pulled – who is he?! – but he obeys and pulls off, using both hands instead.

Harry comes with a grunt, the muscles in his stomach contracting and having spasms as he spills over Louis’ hands and himself, his back arched off the bed and his head thrown back, mouth hanging open and looking like sex personified. Without stopping to think, Louis scrambles to go straddle Harry’s thighs and he begins tugging at his painfully hard cock, only needing a few seconds to come as well, his come joining Harry’s on his stomach, painting it with stripes of white.

Collapsing down next to Harry, Louis nuzzles his neck, unable to stop smiling. Louis extends a hand to dip the tip of his finger in the come cooling off on Harry’s skin, licking it tentatively. He frowns at the taste and Harry laughs.

“Weird, eh?”

Louis shrugs with a hum and lifts his chin to kiss under Harry’s jaw, nipping it lightly. “I’ll go get a washcloth, don’t move, darling.”

“No need,” Harry replies, reaching over the edge of the bed for a box of tissues. “These will do for now. Don’t leave me, you’re warm.”

While Harry cleans himself, Louis slips under the duvet, sparing a thought to how far he’s come since the last time he was in Harry’s bed. As soon as Harry settles down and shuts the light, Louis curls up into his side, resting his head on his chest.

“So, how was I?” he asks, kissing Harry’s skin.

Harry wraps his arms around him. “You’re a natural. It was amazing.”

“Born to suck cock, what a destiny,” Louis deadpans, grinning when Harry bursts out laughing. He presses his ear to his chest to hear the rumbles in his ribcage. “I liked doing it.”

“Yeah? You know how to talk to boys, Lou.” Harry laughs again, running his hand down Louis’ back.

Louis slaps his chest for good measure, and then lets out a happy sigh. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

“Oh, it’s right! I’ve got you all for myself all weekend!” Harry scratches Louis’ back and Louis hums, nuzzling Harry’s chest. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

Louis nods, his eyes getting heavier. “Can you make me pancakes tomorrow?”

“Duh,” Harry replies and Louis doesn’t need to look to know he’s rolling his eyes.

With a final kiss to Harry’s chest, Louis gives in to sleep, letting Harry’s heartbeat lull him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know the source for the pictures, I googled "17 years old Harry Styles" in September and found them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are always so amazing, guys, you have no idea how happy they make me, so thank you!
> 
> The crux of this chapter was planned while riding the London Tube, exactly six months ago, in between groans of 'so many people, what the hell' and 'why did we get the only heat wave in the history of England' and 'the train isn't going in the right direction, it's so weird!'. Also, fun fact about the writer: it's a complete coincidence, but by placing Harry and Niall in Newham (that's where they live), I ended up having them go through the station where we lived for two weeks: Mile End. It made me really nostalgic. I had to share.

A heavy weight drops nearly on top of Louis and wakes him up. He opens his eyes, startled, and is not at all reassured when he’s met with Niall’s panicked eyes. The man has managed to squirm his way between Louis and Harry and he’s shaking Harry awake. Louis groans to see he’s only in his pants.

“Haz, Hazza, wake up, I need you,” Niall says, rushed and almost scared. “Morning, Lou. You can go back to sleep.”

“S’not going to happen with you here,” Louis mutters, tugging at the duvet to pull it up higher over his naked body.

“Haz, I fucked up,” Niall continues, ignoring Louis’ protest and moving to sit up against the wall, pulling his legs up against his chest, hugging his knees.

Louis pushes himself up on an elbow and sees that Harry looks as worried as he now is. Niall looks actually quite panicked; it’s not an act to bother them until they make him food. He looks genuinely distressed.

“Niall, what’s going on?” Harry asks, voice thick with sleep. He rubs his eyes a few times and then sits up, careful to keep the duvet over his hips. 

Louis mirrors him, rubbing Niall’s arm a few times to try and comfort him.

Niall glances at Louis before letting out a shaky sigh. “I slept with Zayn. Like, _slept_ with him.”

“He slept in your bed?” Harry asks and Louis leans forward to glare at him.

“No, Haz, he didn’t just sleep in my bed. We fucked,” Niall snaps before frowning, resting his chin on his knees. “I had a cock up my arse last night.”

No one says anything for a moment, Louis mostly because he’s afraid he’ll burst out laughing if he opens his mouth. He’s biting the inside of his cheeks and trying not to let out the giggles he can feel building up because, _oh my god_ , of course Niall slept with Zayn. 

“Did… did you like it?” Harry finally asks, sounding uneasy. “Because, ultimately, that’s what matters.”

Niall shrugs, letting out a huff. “I’m not gay.”

“No one said you were,” Louis says, soothingly. “It… it happens.”

“I’ve slept with girls, doesn’t make me straight,” Harry adds and he shrugs when Louis glances at him with wide, surprised eyes because _what_. “Sexuality is fluid, Ni. If you like Zayn and want to have sex with him, that’s fine.”

Niall groans, scrunching up his nose in disgust. “I’m not saying I’m in love with him, fuck’s sake, Harold, seriously.”

“That’s not what we’re saying.” Louis pats Niall’s knee. “But there’s no reason to panic. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.” Louis gives him an encouraging smile. “Is he still asleep?”

With a nod, Niall sighs. “I know I shouldn’t have taken out that blunt, it all went downhill from there.”

Harry chuckles, only doing it louder when Niall glares at him. “Weed makes you slutty, now?”

“No, weed made us hungry and we ate like, all of the leftovers. It’s the whiskey we drank after that made me slutty.” Niall sniffs, annoyed. “And it’s when he decided I was a canvas that we lost control,” he continues, lowering his legs so they can see his stomach, where Zayn has drawn a series of doodles that disappear under the waistband of Niall’s pants. “He was already down there, so like, he just…”

“Tripped and your cock fell in his mouth?” Harry asks, the laughter he’s holding back colouring his voice.

Niall’s groan is answer enough. “I’m not gay,” he repeats.

“You’re not,” Harry says, rubbing Niall’s back. “No one is saying you are.”

“Okay. I’ll go kick him out, now,” Niall mutters, scooting down the bed to get up from the foot. 

“Be nice! He’s my best mate!” Louis cries, kicking at Niall before he gets off the bed.

Niall groans another time before leaving the room, shutting the door on his way out. As soon as the door clicks shut, Louis bursts out in a fit of giggles, covering his mouth with his hands to muffle the sound.

“Oh, my god,” he gasps. “Can you believe it?”

Shrugging, Harry nods. “Yeah, I can. Have you seen the way Niall looked at Zayn all evening?”

“Zayn has that effect on everyone, it isn’t news to me.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve lost count of how many times Niall kissed me when he’s pissed. That’s what he does. Alcohol makes him bicurious.”

Laughing still, Louis shakes his head. “I kind of don’t want to be there when they’re both awake, but I also really want to hear the conversation they’ll have.”

“No, we’ll give them some privacy.” Harry gets out of bed and Louis bites his lip as he watches him stretch, stark naked and without an ounce of shame, before looking through his clothes. “We’ll shower and then I’m taking you out for breakfast. How’s that?”

“Shower together?” Louis asks, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the thought.

“If you want,” Harry replies with a wink, putting on a pair of pants and heading for the door.

“Okay,” Louis says, voice made shaky by his excitement. “I just need to look up something, I have some shopping to do today, and then I’ll join you.”

“Brilliant,” Harry says with a grin before leaving the room.

Louis jumps out of bed and looks around for his mobile, finding it on the floor where it must have fallen when they started fooling around. He opens up the browser and searches for ‘ _apple store London_ ’ with shaking fingers, knowing very well that he’s walking himself straight into a fight with Harry. Once he’s found it and figured out the itinerary, he puts on the pants he wore the day before and pads to the bathroom, opening the door and wincing against the cloud of vapour that comes out. He slips out of his underwear and then pushes the shower curtain to the side as he climbs into the bathtub, stepping closer to Harry and pressing himself along his back, arms around his waist.

“Hey, baby,” Harry says, stepping forward so that Louis can be under the spray. “So, where are we going?”

Letting go of Harry, Louis steps back and gently pushes him out of the way so he can get completely wet, trying to look and act casual despite what he’s hiding and the novelty of the situation. He’s got a wet and naked Harry inches from him and, somehow, he feels completely comfortable and at ease. He smiles up at Harry.

“Oxford Circus Station,” he says, reaching for the bottle of shampoo that Harry just put down. “It’s on the Central line. We’ll have to transfer at Mile End, if I remember well,” he adds, squirting some in his hand and beginning to wash his hair, watching Harry do the same to his own. 

He studied the plan carefully before joining Harry, making sure he remembered every underground station they’d need to go through and sighing as he realised he needed to go to London more often. He shouldn’t feel like a stranger in a city he calls his own – it’s a lie, it’s all a lie, he lives in Oxshott, not London and he’s never felt it as acutely as when he was trying to understand a map of the London underground.

“Okay, so we’ll just have breakfast around here before we leave.”

Louis nods and steps under the water to rinse his hair, gasping and shivering when Harry slowly starts washing him, rubbing the soap against his skin with soft, soothing motions. Bowing his head, his chin against his chest, Louis lets him do it, closing his eyes under Harry’s deft hands and the way he massages the knots out of his back.

After he’s washed and massaged ever inch of Louis’ skin, Harry helps him rinse and then drops to his knees, causing their shower to last much longer than necessary. They step out with wrinkled skin and wobbly knees, and Louis giggles as Harry wraps him in a towel and rubs him dry, peppering his face with kisses all the while.

It takes another half hour for them to leave, mostly because Louis spends an inordinate amount of time trying to style his hair without his usual products or appropriate tools while Harry waits, lying on his bed and playing a game on Louis’ mobile. Only silence comes from Niall’s room as they walk by it on their way out and they exchange a knowing smirk. Harry grabs a wide-brimmed hat that’s hanging by the door and then they’re out of the flat.

Harry holds his hand as they walk towards the underground station, looking sinfully delicious under the late morning sun with his black Wayfarers and stupid hat, flowery shirt hanging loosely off his body with too many buttons opened. Next to him, Louis feels like maybe, in a way, Harry’s confidence transfer to him because he feels attractive and bold in his red shorts, striped shirt and with his aviator sunglasses perched on his nose.

They stop at a small, independent café for breakfast, sitting by the window to eat their breakfast and sip their teas. Harry surprises Louis by grabbing the newspaper from a nearby table and flipping through it, frowning adorably.

“S’the _Daily Mail_ , don’t be so surprised it’s full of shit,” Louis comments around a mouthful of bacon and tomato toastie, grinning when Harry hooks his ankle around his.

“No, no, it’s not full of shit, look,” he says, laying the newspaper flat on the table. “Our future king did a thing and it’s worth four pages.”

“You’d think he’s the first baby they ever see,” Louis adds with a laugh. “Although we shouldn’t speak so loudly, I’m afraid it might be high treason.”

“I think it’s only treason if we plot to murder him. I honestly just want to pinch his cheeks and blow raspberries on his little tummy.”

Louis grins, taking Harry’s hand over the table. “So, let me get this straight—” Louis glares at Harry when he giggles at the word ‘straight’, “You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you can cook and you love kids. How are you not already married?”

“I hadn’t found the right one.”

They both let the sentence hang in the air, Louis choosing to focus intensely on his tea so he doesn’t spontaneously combust. _Hadn’t_ , not _haven’t_ , implying that he has found the right one, now. Louis smiles into his cup of tea, squeezing Harry’s hand and having his squeezed in return.

“Haz, I want cake,” Louis replies, biting his lip shyly.

Harry laughs, rolling his eyes fondly. “I want cake, too.”  
After that, they make their way to the underground station, Harry taking Louis’ hand as soon as they leave the shop. Louis gets up on the tip of his toes to kiss his cheek, feeling him smile when he does. Once at the station, Louis’ smile fades as he has to face the fact that he’s never taken the Tube before. He stalls in the entrance, looking around without a clue of what he’s supposed to do.

“I’ve never…” he stammers, digging his hands in his pockets and rocking on his feet. He bites his lip.

“Oh, no worries. We’ll get you a two-way ticket, come on,” Harry says, putting his hand on the small of Louis’ back and guiding him to one of the automatic tellers.

A few minutes later, Louis watches the barrier swallow his ticket and then spit it out and he hurries to walk through the gate before it closes on him, feeling thrilled and stupid all at once.

“I feel like Mr Weasley,” he tells Harry, grabbing his hand once they meet on the other side and letting the older man direct them to the right platform.

“Aw, you’re not as bad. At least you know what rubber ducks are for,” Harry replies, kissing Louis’ temple.

Louis looks around with curiosity as they walk down a few flights of stairs to the platform, fascinated by everything he sees and feeling foolish for it. Once on the platform, he gets closer to the edge and looks down the tunnel before walking back to Harry, who smiles and wraps his arms around his shoulders.

“We can take either train that’ll come in,” Harry says, nodding at the board announcing the next trains.

When it comes, Louis rushes in and pulls Harry along, worried that the doors might close before they have time to get in. He finds them seats and sits down, bouncing his leg excitedly.

“I’ve never seen anyone so eager to take the Tube,” Harry says fondly.

Louis can’t find a way of saying ‘I get excited by plebeian activities I’m not used to’ without sounding like a jerk, so he just shrugs and kisses Harry’s cheek, resting his head against his shoulder until a message comes on, announcing the next station. Louis looks around wildly in search of a map and only calms down once he’s sure they’re going the right way.

“I won’t get us lost, don’t worry, sunshine,” Harry says, laughing.

“I wasn’t…” he trails off, blushing.

Harry pulls him into his side and strokes his arm, kissing his forehead. Louis leans into him and closes his eyes, letting the roll of the train sway him. He stops paying attention to the messages, only perking up when he hears: ‘ _The next station is Mile End. Change for the Central line and the Hammersmith and City line._ ’

“That’s us!” he pipes, getting up. “Come on, we don’t want to miss it.”

Louis hops off the train as soon as the doors open, anxiously waiting for Harry who takes his time, probably to prove a point. Louis doesn’t care, he doesn’t want them to get separated because the doors closed before he could get out, the last thing he wants is to be left alone in East London, he doesn’t even know how to get back home from here.

“Where to, now?” Louis asks once his stupid boyfriend has joined him on the platform.

“We stay here, they all use the same platform.”

With a resolute nod, Louis turns to the board to see how long they have to wait. He sighs when he sees five minutes and looks at Harry with a pout. Harry runs his hand through Louis’ hair and bends down to kiss him lightly, smiling all the while.

“You’re cute,” he says and Louis only pouts more. “No, it’s true. Your enthusiasm is adorable.”

“Maybe you’re the weird one who’s not fascinated by the Tube. Maybe I’m the normal one. Have you considered that?” Louis asks, putting his nose up and raising his eyebrows.

“Well, I spend three hours a day commuting, it’s lost some of its charm, I’m afraid.”

“Three hours?!” Louis cries out, putting his hand over his mouth when people look over at the sound of his voice. “It takes an hour and a half to get to my house by train?”

“Give or take. Hold on, I’ll show you.” 

With that, Harry walks away, running up the stairs as Louis watches in horror, glancing nervously at the board to make sure he’ll have time to come back. He holds his breath, anxiously twisting his hands until Harry reappears at the top of the stairs, running down them with a hand on his hat to keep it on, a map in the other. He unfolds it as Louis wraps his arms around his waist, tightly, so he doesn’t run away again. Louis bites his lip as Harry explains his itinerary by moving is finger on the map, feeling increasingly worse as he realises everything Harry has to do to end up working in the sun for an almost insultingly low wage. He’ll talk to his stepfather about a raise, he decides, because Harry deserves so much more than what he’s being given.

“At what time to you have to be at my house?” Louis asks once Harry finished with ‘and then I walk for twenty minutes from the station to your house’. 

“I start at eight.” He chuckles when Louis frowns. “I leave my flat at six.”

“That’s awful,” Louis mutters, feeling terribly guilty even if he knows it’s not his fault.

A train pulls in the station and Louis hesitates because it’s not the one he’d spotted on the board, but Harry pushes him gently and keeps a hand on the small of his back as he climbs on it. As soon as the doors close, Louis’ enthusiasm plummets.

The previous train hadn’t been too crowded and it looked fairly recent, but the one they just got on is surprisingly crowded for a Saturday morning and they’re stuck standing up. The air in it is heavy and moist, the open windows in the doors between the wagons doing nothing to help. Harry pulls him along until he’s standing by a window at the front of the wagon.

“Hop on,” he tells Louis, helping him sit on the poor excuse for a seat on the windowsill.

Stepping in front of Louis, Harry places his hands on his shoulders and strokes them soothingly a few times before diving in for a quick kiss to his nose. Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s thighs, hooking his ankles behind them to keep him close.

“This train isn’t fun,” he complains, pouting.

“No, it’s not. Welcome to the London Underground,” Harry deadpans, losing his balance and catching himself on the window behind Louis when the train shakes.

Louis’ shirt is sticking to his skin and he shifts, trying to keep his back away from the window, leaning into Harry instead. He wraps his arms around his waist and rests his head on his chest, feeling Harry’s body heat radiate off him and only making his own overheating worse.

“How many stops?” Louis asks, trying to keep his voice from sounding too whiny. He fails.

Harry cranes his neck to glance at the map above the door and lets out a sigh. “Eight. We’re here for a solid twenty minutes.”

Louis lets out a small whine and then sighs, moving to rest against the window once more, unable to stand Harry’s heat any longer. He looks around at the crowd filling the train, everyone looking annoyed and upset, and he feels a wave of sympathy for everyone there. He kisses Harry’s cheek.

“I’m sorry for whining. It’s awful for everyone. I’m just a spoiled brat.”

“Hush,” Harry replies, pecking Louis’ lips. “Don’t insult my boyfriend.”

Wrapping a hand around the back of Harry’s neck, Louis pulls him in for a longer kiss, burying his fingers in the wild curls peeking out from under his hat. For a moment, Louis forgets that he’s stuck on a crowded, suffocating train, content just to be kissing Harry and be kissed by him, Harry stepping closer and forcing Louis to spread his legs wider to make space for him, but a man clearing his throat nearby brings him back to reality. He blushes a deep shade of purple and moves away from Harry, only to be held back by him. He watches as Harry glares at the man until he looks away, coughing slightly. He gives Harry a quick kiss on the cheek and then grins when Harry takes off his hat and places it to hide their heads from view as he pulls Louis into another slow, lazy kiss.

Louis becomes nervous three stops before theirs. They’ve stopped kissing after their combined heat was threatening to melt their faces off and Harry asked for Louis’ mobile to keep playing the game he discovered earlier, Louis giving him advice from time to time as the train zooms towards the moment when he might actually lose his boyfriend as he tries to do something nice for him. By the time the train stops at their station, Louis feels like someone poured molten lead in his stomach. He steps off the train, muttering an annoyed ‘we know!’ at the ‘ _Please mind the gap between the train and the platform_ ’ it took him two minutes to hate. Harry laughs and takes his hand.

The mild air outside makes Louis sigh with relief and he shivers when a gust of wind turns his sweat cold. He grins at Harry, who looks as relieved as him.

“Where to?” Harry asks, taking Louis’ hand.

“Regent Street.”

With a nod, Harry walks them over to a map, reading it for a few seconds before heading down the street. Louis lets Harry lead him, instead focusing on trying not to die from an anxiety attack. His hand is moist and he knows that Harry knows it, too, but he doesn’t let go so Louis holds on to his hand, trying to tell himself that it’ll go well and they won’t fight, they won’t fight, they won’t break up. At least not in public; Harry will keep his anger bottled up until they get back to his flat, hopefully.

The Apple Store looms in the distance ominously and Louis’ stomach tightens even more at the sight of it.

“Which shop do you want to go to? We’re on Regent Street.”  
Louis swallows and says nothing, waiting until they’re closer before he drops the bomb. He takes a deep breath when they’re nearly in front of it and then turns to Harry, trying to sound casual. “The Apple Store.”

“You need a new computer? Your mobile’s working just fine.”

“Not me. You need a new mobile,” Louis says, working hard to sound confident and in control even if he feels like running away.

“No,” Harry immediately snaps, shaking his head. “No, I don’t need one.”

“Haz, come on. It’ll be my pleasure to buy it for you. Honestly. Please, let me spend money on you. Please.”

“Don’t patronise me,” Harry replies, letting go of Louis’ hand. He glances at the storefront as if it had personally insulted him, his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched forward.

“I’m not! I just… we can get you an Android, if you prefer? It doesn’t have to be an iPhone, I was just offering because that’s what I have, if you prefer…”

“You’re not doing this because you pity me, do you?” Harry cuts him, a bit roughly.

“No! No, not at all. It’s just… in my world that’s how you show people you care. By spending money on them. It’s twisted and wrong, but I want to do this for you. I won’t force you, but think how much fun you were having with mine earlier. You could have that. And we could send each other pictures, and use _FaceTime_ and it’d be like we’re together even if we’re not.”

Harry sighs loudly and paces for a moment, running a hand down his face. Louis lets him take all the time he needs, watching him for any sign of the anger he saw the night before. There doesn’t seem to be any and after a few minutes, Harry sighs again and slumps his shoulders.

“Fine,” he drawls. “Let’s update me.”

Louis smiles and takes Harry’s hand before leading him inside, holding the door open for him. He drags him towards the mobiles display, giving his hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Which colour do you want?”

“Do they have to be so garish?” Harry comments, before sighing. “Blue.”

“Blue?”

“Yeah, blue. Like your eyes.”

Louis blushes and lets out a giggle, pressing his face against Harry’s arm for a few seconds. “You’re impossible.”

“Says the guy who insists on spending…” he glances at the price tag and his eyes widen, “fuck, £300 on me. Lou, I can’t…”

“No, no, you agreed, no going back. It’s just a mobile, Haz. I’m not giving you one of my kidneys.”

Louis waves over one of the employees before Harry can protest again, keeping an eye on Harry as he wanders off towards the MacBooks. Louis loses track of the conversation he’s having with the employee when he sees Harry grow more and more interested in the computer, looking through the applications. When Louis sees him open _GarageBand_ and strike up a conversation with another employee about it, he makes a decision that he’s sure he’ll regret.

Turning to the employee, he smiles. “I’ll take a MacBook as well. The best one you’ve got. 15 inches.”

Then, he goes over to stand by Harry’s side, listening to him talk excitedly with the employee until he’s noticed. Harry immediately steps away from the laptop and excuses himself to the employee, shrugging.

“Are we leaving soon? This place is dangerous.”

“Yeah, I just need to pay. Why don’t you go pick a case for your mobile?”

“I don’t need a case.”

“Harold, you’re a gardener, you need a protective case for your mobile. Stop arguing and go,” Louis says, putting his hands on his hips and taking his most authoritative voice.

Harry rolls his eyes, but obeys, walking over to the display wall. Louis gets in line to pay, hoping against hope that Harry won’t notice he’s buying him a computer, too. Harry comes back just as Louis’ walking over to the counter and hands him a flowered case. Louis grins up at him, getting on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“The flowers. I should have known.”

“Yeah, well, you know me,” Harry says, shrugging dismissively. That’s when he sees the two boxes on the counter. He frowns. “There’s a mistake, sir, we’re just getting the mobile.”

“No, I’m getting both,” Louis immediately says, slipping his credit card out of his wallet.

“So you do need a new computer,” Harry says, still frowning. He’s already guessed, Louis supposes, but he’s not jumping to conclusions. He loves him for that, even if it means he’s delaying the confrontation and nearly driving Louis mad with nerves.

“No, I don’t. You do, though. Don’t,” Louis immediately snaps, holding up a finger to motion to Harry to stay quiet. “No arguing. Yours has no battery anymore and it runs Windows XP. I’m doing you a favour right now.”

Behind the counter, the employee chuckles as he rings the purchases. It only seems to inflame Harry. He opens and closes his mouth a few times and just when Louis is bracing himself for an explosion, he stalks off, leaving the store without another word.

“I’m sorry about that,” Louis tells the employee, smiling at him pleasantly as he approves the purchase on the machine, only briefly glancing at the number and biting his lip when he sees it’s almost £3000. His stepfather will give him hell when he sees the bill. He’ll have to invent some bullshit about breaking his own to make him shut up.

With the bag in hand, Louis leaves the shop, looking around for Harry and finding him sulking a few doors from there. Louis slowly makes his way to him, feeling his heart sink when Harry starts heading for the station without waiting for him.

“Haz, please. Don’t be mad at me,” he calls after him, trying to catch up with Harry and his stupid long legs, quickly out of breath. The bag is heavy, too, and he can feel his fingers cramping under the weight.

“I told you,” Harry says, finally stopping and turning to face Louis, “I told you I didn’t want your charity and you keep fucking insisting,” he spits out, making Louis take a step back.

“It’s not charity! Harry, you’re not my charity case. You’re my boyfriend and I’m buying you presents. I’d buy you diamonds if you were a girl. It’s not… I’m not doing this because I pity you, I’m doing it to make you happy. And honestly, I’m being completely selfish. With those,” he says, holding up the bag, “we’ll be able to be in contact all the bloody time, even when I’ve gone back to Oxford. I don’t even pay for it, okay? It’s the wanker who does.”

The mention of Oxford seems to startle Harry and Louis feels his heart sink. They haven’t talked about it yet, or rather he didn’t bring it up. He’s been floating on a cloud, enjoying his time with Harry and how happy the man makes him without sparing at thought to the very real, very scary fact that by mid-October, he’ll be in a different city and while Oxford and London might not be too far, he doubts Harry would be able to afford visiting often. Harry seems to realise it, now, and he visibly deflates.

Taking it as an encouraging sign, Louis continues. “Your old computer probably can’t support things like Skype and it’d be hard to… I just want to be able to keep in touch with you because I’ll miss you when I’m gone.”

Harry’s frown softens and he lets out a shaky breath, running a hand down his face. Louis waits, transferring the bag to his other hand and flexing the freed one a few times to try and restore the circulation in it. People are hurrying passed and around them, but it seems to Louis like time has stopped as he waits to see how Harry will react. He wishes he could say something to make it better, to somehow apologise for his intentions that were misinterpreted, but he prefers to wait for Harry to say something first. 

A part of Louis, a tiny, insecure part of him that lives in the darkest recesses of his mind, expects Harry to announce he doesn’t want to do long-distance and that their story won’t outlive summer. Louis wouldn’t be surprised, if he’s honest. They’ve moved so fast, jumping into the relationship then rushing into having sex, it always sat wrong with Louis, making him wonder if maybe, perhaps, Harry had no intentions to keep him beyond his contract with his family. Why would he? Louis hardly thinks he’s worth the hardships of dealing with a long-distance relationship.

“Oxford isn’t far,” Harry finally says. “I could visit.”

“You could, yeah. But, hum, it’s not… it wouldn’t be very often, would it? You’ll have a job and a life, and, just… life will get in the way.”

“And you think buying me overpriced toys will keep me interested when you’re away?” Harry asks, the softness of his voice contradicting his harsh words.

Louis shrugs. “No, but… but I’ll be able to keep in touch. I don’t know, it’s silly, I can return them if you prefer,” he says in a rush, turning back towards the shop. It was stupid of him to think he could keep Harry interested by buying him things.

Harry stops him with a hand on his shoulder, which he then moves down his arm, stroking it softly before taking the bag from his hand. “No, don’t return them. You’re right. Mine are ancient.”

A sigh of relief leaves Louis, making him feel like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. They’re okay. Harry won’t break up. It’s okay, he hasn’t screwed up. “I really didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“I know, babe. Come on, let’s go home,” Harry says, putting his arm around Louis’ shoulder and giving him a squeeze, pulling him into his side briefly before he begins walking them to the station.

There’s still a tension between them. Louis can feel it, something is hanging in the air and something as simple as walking together doesn’t feel natural. He glances up at Harry and sees that his eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth a hard line. His traits immediately soften when he notices Louis looking, the frown dissolving into a smile that doesn’t reach all the way to his eyes. Louis’ stomach clenches.

The train is even more crowded than earlier and Louis spends the ride pressed up against Harry, clutching at his waist while his face is hidden against his shirt, holding on tightly whenever the train jostles and threatens to make him fall. Harry has put the bag between their legs and Louis holds it tight, sacrificing his balance to ensure the safety of £3000 worth of fights with his stepfather. Harry strokes his back soothingly through the ride, kissing his sweaty hair and forehead from time to time, but the motions feel automatic after a while. Louis doesn’t feel like Harry is really there, instead feeling like he’s lost in his thoughts. It worries him beyond words.

They hold hands on their way back to Harry’s flat and Louis can sense the tension in the space that it leaves between them. Harry doesn’t talk much and his laughs are short-lived when Louis babbles nonsense to fill the silence. Linking their fingers, Louis looks up at Harry with a smile only to see the same forced one from earlier, his eyes remaining stern and clouded.

“You’re going to need a plan!” Louis exclaims, too cheerfully and too loudly. He takes out his phone and quickly searches for a carrier nearby, leading Harry in the direction once he finds it. “We’ll get you the basic one, I mean, you don’t really need that much data, I’ll give you the WiFi password at my house so you can use it while you work,” he rambles, Harry growing more sullen with every step they take.

Stepping inside the shop, Louis walks up to the counter and starts talking to the employee, describing what they need while Harry stands back, looking around without saying a word. It takes Louis three attempts to get his attention and make him come closer. 

“She needs to put in a SIM card, love. Give it here,” Louis says, still in that cheerful voice he hates as he digs inside the bag to retrieve the mobile, opening the box and chatting amicably with the employee to make up for Harry’s bad mood.

“I just need to run a quick credit check,” she explains, turning to Harry. “It’s for you, yeah? I’ll need your credit card and an ID, please.”

Harry pales and when he hands his cards, Louis sees that his hand is shaking. He gives Harry a reassuring smile and continues unpacking the mobile, shooting him glances from time to time to see if he’s all right. Harry is standing with his hands dug deep inside his pockets, shoulders and head bowed. When he meets Louis’ eyes, he gives him another fake smile.

“Hm, there seems to be a bit of a problem with your credit score, sir,” the employee says politely, handing Harry back his cards. “The system won’t let me open you an account.”

Pocketing his cards, Harry nods. “I understand,” he replies sombrely, turning for the door.

“Wait. Put it on me. We’ll deal with the payments later,” Louis says brightly, his attempts at keeping his voice light making him sound manic. “Here, my score’s alright.” He throws his cards on the counter and turns to smile at Harry, only to find him gone.

It feels like lead has filled his stomach and the air has been punched out of his lungs. Abandoning the mobile on the counter, Louis runs out of the shop and looks around, but he doesn’t see Harry anywhere. With a string of ‘ _shit, shit, fuck, shit, I fucked up_ ’ running through his mind, Louis gets back in, finalising the account before packing everything and leaving.

He finds the flat after fifteen minutes, taking a wrong turn in his haste and getting lost, panic flaring inside of him like a living thing, crawling and creeping into every corner of his mind. He climbs the stairs two by two and knocks at the door, breathless and red-faced.

“He’s in his room,” Niall says when he opens the door, letting Louis in. 

The bag with the computer has been abandoned by the door, along with Harry’s boots and his hat. A quick glance to the hallway confirms to Louis that Harry’s locked himself in his room.

Louis drops the box on the table and ignores Niall’s low whistle as he makes his way to Harry’s room, knocking at the door timidly. “Harry? I’m back. Can I come in?” Silence greets him and Louis waits a whole minute before he knocks again. “Please, Harry, I think we need to talk.”

“Not now, Louis,” Harry replies curtly.

With a shaky sigh, Louis walks away, sitting on the edge of the couch and staring at the floor. He’s trying his best to will away his tears, but there’s a knot in his throat and it hurts when he swallows, his eyes prickle more and more with every passing second and it feels like his entire world has collapsed around him. He only wanted to be nice to Harry, he never meant to ruin their relationship, all he was hoping to achieve is show Harry how much he means to him. Louis doesn’t look up when Niall sits next to him and hands him a cup of tea.

“He’s a massive wanker when it comes to money.”

That makes him look up. “What?”

“Haz. He’s like that doctor, you know, hum, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. That’s Harry with money.”

Louis takes a sip of his tea and grimaces before he can stop it. Just to be polite, he keeps drinking. “I didn’t mean to insult him.”

“I know you didn’t. Give him a couple of hours to sulk and then he’ll be fine.”

With a nod, Louis keeps sipping the awful tea, his eyes still on the floor. “I had no idea he was so—hum, so…”

“Poor? Yeah. We’re broke.” Niall leans back in the couch. “We’re late on basically everything we need to pay. They cut our cable two months ago and you’ve seen our fridge.”

“You have a… a bad job, too?”

“A shit one, yeah. I bartend. I make more than he does because of tips, but it’s still not enough. This is London.”

Louis bites his lip, thinking for a moment. “How much is your rent?”

“More or less £900. Then, add power and water to that. And cable and Internet, although we don’t have those anymore because we couldn’t pay. Harry’s entire pay checks go into trying to pay his half, but he often can’t and I can’t cover my own and feed us at the same time, so.”

Putting down his mug, Louis turns to Niall. He makes more than that in allowances alone and he saves most of it because everything’s paid for him. Maybe this is his chance to rid himself of some of his guilt. _Maybe_. “Harry won’t let me if I ask, so I’ll ask you: if I want to help, will you let me?”

Niall’s face splits into a wide smile. “Do I have to do something in return?”

“This is where I joke about sexual favours, right?” he asks timidly, blushing.

“Normally, yes.” Niall cackles before getting up. “I’ll go get our bills, hang on.”

Harry will be angry, Louis knows that much, but he’s already angry as it is, so, technically, it’s the right time to act. It can’t possibly make his mood fouler. He doubts that explaining to Harry that he does it to get some stress off his shoulders will help, just like telling him that it’s Louis’ way of repaying him for all the good he’s done in his life. He filled a void Louis didn’t even know he had by making him feel important and needed and he doesn’t know how to return the favour. Harry isn’t a young, silly boy who needs constant reassurance like Louis does, but if he can help by making sure he doesn’t get thrown out of his flat, he will. It’s the least he can do.

Half an hour later, Louis is crunching numbers on a calculator at the kitchen table, trying to figure out interest rates and prioritising what needs to be paid first. His stepfather might be an arsehole, but at least he taught Louis how to budget.

“Water, gas and power, for sure,” Louis tells Niall, jutting down a string of numbers on a piece of paper before picking up a letter from their landlord, scanning it for what they owe. “You’ve got to at least get rid of late payments, the interests rates will choke you.” Picking up the gas bill, Louis points at a number. “That’s just in interests.”

Niall groans and nods, running a hand down his face. “Okay. Yeah, sure, but that’s…” Louis circles a number on his sheet and points at it with his pen, making Niall groan again. “Really?”

“You’re three months late for water, two for gas and power. I can handle the late payments, but you’ve got to tighten your budget so it doesn’t happen again. You’ll have to pay the rent, though, there’s only so much I can put on my credit card before I’m asked questions.”

Harry clears his throat, making them both jump. He’s standing in the doorway of the kitchen, eyebrows furrowed and a look of betrayal on his face. Louis drops his pen, as if it might convince Harry he isn’t doing what he thinks he’s doing.

“Lou’s helping us so we don’t lose the flat,” Niall says simply, getting up to fetch three beers from the fridge. He gives one to Harry and brings the other two back to the table, handing one to Louis. “So sit down and let him.”

“Please, Harry,” Louis says, his voice small and scared. “I just want to help.”

“Whatever,” is all Harry says, grabbing his new mobile before turning on his heels and slamming his bedroom door shut.

Louis swallows around the lump in his throat and turns back to his papers, his hands shaking as he picks up the pen. “We’ve got to…” he clears his throat when his voice comes out in a squeak. “Budget. You need budgets.”

He picks up a piece of paper and reads it, his eyes widening. “Is that how much Harry pays for his commute?” he asks in a squeak, unable to wrap his mind around the number printed on the paper.

“Yeah, you don’t live close, you know. He’s got to use the National Rail, that’s bloody expensive. Small wonder he can’t afford food.”

“But… why does he bother with my house? The pay’s shit, the employer’s a wanker and it costs him more than half a pay check to get there.” 

“You’re there,” Niall replies with a shrug, sifting through the papers without reading them.

“No,” is all Louis says because _no_ , he can’t believe that Harry signed a shit contract just so he could see Louis every day before they even talked beyond their disastrous first meeting. He won’t believe it, can’t believe it, refuses to believe that Harry might have done something that incredibly stupid for Louis.

“Ask him, you’ll see.”

“I will, if he ever wants to talk to me again.”

Niall pats his back and takes a pull from his beer, pushing a new bill he’s found in the mess Harry and he call their ‘Grown-up Drawer’.

It takes Louis a full hour to finish his work and by the time he’s done, he’s managed to squeeze enough funds out of their meagre resources to cover everything they need to pay, with a little bit of extra for fun. Niall objected strongly when Louis told him he needed to cut what he spent on alcohol in half, but beyond that, he’s proud of himself.

“Now I need to face Harry,” he says, straightening the papers after hanging up on the cable company, their subscription sorted out thanks to a lot of wheedling and a promise of regular payments from now on. “Even if I don’t understand why he’s so…” He can’t find the word to describe how Harry is regarding money. Uptight? Picky? Stubborn?

“Ashamed,” Niall fills in for him. “That’s shame.”

Shame. Right. Louis hadn’t thought about that. “Oh, fuck, he probably thinks I judge him for being poor because I’m rich.”

“I’m not the one you should tell, mate.” Niall’s phone buzzes and he picks it up, but not before Louis has time to see Zayn’s name on the screen. 

He holds back his question for later, instead picking up the abandoned computer before reluctantly making his way to Harry’s room, opening the door without knocking this time. He leaves the bag on the floor and climbs on the bed, crawling on his knees to where Harry is lying on his side, his back to him. He sits cross-legged a few inches from him and reaches out hesitantly to stroke his back.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Harry replies, not unkindly. “I’m stuck on level 10 of this stupid game.”

Folding his arms on Harry’s side and resting his chin on them, Louis looks at the mobile. “It took me a long time to get through it, but it can be done. I see you figured out how to use it.”

“It’s not hard.”

“No, it’s not. Are you still sulking?”

Harry sighs and puts down his mobile, craning his neck to look at Louis. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

Every inch of Louis wants to apologise, but he doesn’t, biting back the words before they stumble out of his mouth. “No, you shouldn’t have,” he says instead, feeling weirdly proud of his courage. He didn’t even have to drink the beer Niall offered to achieve that. “You didn’t even thank me and you made me feel like I did something wrong.”

“I know, I’m… I’m sorry. And I’m grateful for what you did, okay? Don’t think I’m not, it’s just that I’m… ashamed.”

“I get it, but you could have told me. It’s not fair that I’m the only one who talks about his issues in this relationship. And you could look at me when I’m talking to you,” he adds in a snap. His stepfather would be proud to see him demanding respect. He winces at the thought.

Harry looks startled when he sits up to face Louis. “You’re right. You don’t deserve how I acted with you. I’m sorry.”

“I felt like shit, Harry. I thought… I thought you were going to break up with me.”

Taking his hands, Harry shakes his head. “It never crossed my mind. If anything, it made me realise how much I… no one has ever done something like this for me. With Nick, presents always meant bad things had happened or would happen soon. It was never just… just to show he cared.” Harry shakes his head, sighing. “And I’m ashamed because… I can’t take care of you like I wish I could. I’m poor and it sucks.”

“And I’m not, so I can help. I have more money than I know what to do with. You take care of me in other ways. I don’t think you realise what you do for me already.”

“I don’t think I do, no.” Harry gives him a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you for the presents. I don’t deserve them, but thank you.”

Louis returns the smile and leans in to peck Harry’s lips. “That’s better. I’ll pay for your plan, too.”  
Harry looks like he’s about to argue, but a stern look from Louis shuts him up. “It’s probably better that way. I can’t afford it.”

“I know. I also settled all of your late payments. You’ve got cable again and they won’t cut your amenities or kick you out.” Louis squeezes Harry’s hands. “And tomorrow, you, me and Niall will go to Tesco’s and we’ll fill your flat with food.”

Harry’s hands twitch in Louis’ and the shadow of a frown appears on his face, but he nods. “Okay. There’s no point in trying to argue, is there?”

“No. No point at all. You should have told me earlier how desperate it was. I could have helped sooner.”

Despite Harry’s best efforts at hiding it, Louis can tell that he’s uncomfortable. He shrugs and lets out a shaky sigh, shaking his head. “I managed on my own for years, I could have continued.”

“That’s my point,” Louis begins, scooting closer until their knees bump. “You don’t have to manage on your own. We’re a team, aren’t we?”

Harry frowns. “You sure have come a long way since yesterday.”

“I was drunk, yesterday. And I suppose I did what you told me, I don’t put you on a pedestal anymore. I’ve seen that you’re not perfect—”

“You’ve always known I was broke.”

Louis lifts his hand to shut him up. “I’m talking about the fact that you handle frustration like a four year old in need of a nap.”

Harry bursts out laughing and it’s like a bubble of tension exploded, leaving Louis feeling lighter. They’ll make it through. He’s having a mature, adult conversation with his boyfriend. They’re communicating and expressing their emotions to try and reach a compromise that’ll make them both happy. 

He smiles and climbs on Harry’s lap, folding his legs around Harry’s hips. “So, now that I know that part of you, I feel like we’re more equal. I feel safer. You’re just as daft as me.”

“No, I’m much dafter. You’re the brains, I’m like that dog from _Up_.”

"Books! And cleverness! There are more important things—friendship and bravery," Louis says, fighting back a smile as hard as he can.

Harry frowns, hooking his arms around Louis’ waist. “Did you just quote _Harry Potter_?”  
With a beam, Louis nods, giggling uncontrollably. “I might have, yeah.”

Harry laughs, rolling his eyes. “Alright, then, if you’re Hermione, that makes me Ron. Does it mean Niall is Harry?”

“No, you’re Harry, Harry,” Louis says, still giggling.

“That means you need to date Niall, though.”

With a mock gasp of horror, Louis shakes his head. “We can’t have that. You can be Ron, then. That makes Zayn Draco. It fits, I think.”

“Yeah, it weirdly does,” Harry replies, keeping a straight face for a second before he laughs. “Oh, Lou, my darling, I love you.”

Louis’ fit of giggles dies in his throat and his eyes widen as his heart starts hammering in his chest. “I love you, too,” he replies, voice weak and awed.

“Yeah? Lucky me,” Harry says brightly, his eyes sparkling.

“Well, I’ve been telling you for a long time, haven’t I?”

“You have?” 

Harry looks genuinely clueless and in a flash, Louis realises how silly he’s been.

“‘I want cake’,” he says. “Did you really think I always wanted cake? I thought you figured it out,” Louis continues sadly. He’d be lying if he said he’s not disappointed and a bit upset.

Pressing his lips together, Harry frowns. “Is that what you meant? I wondered. I never thought it’d be _that_ , though. Maybe just… I don’t know. Maybe ‘I’m happy’?”

Louis shakes his head. “No, it meant that I love you.”

Scrunching up his face adorably as he thinks, Harry shakes his head, a slow smile blooming on his face. “You told me you love me on our first date?”

“I might have. I don’t think I meant it like I do now, but I thought I did. I suppose I loved you already, just not as much as I do now.”

“And how much is that?”

“Like, ten times ‘a lot’,” Louis replies, smirking proudly.

“Using my own words against me, that’s not fair.” Harry pouts, pinching Louis’ waist.  
“Maybe, but you love me.”

“I do.”

Louis grins and kisses Harry, loosely wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry smiles against his lips, kissing back tenderly and slowly, making Louis’ skin tingle with pleasure.

“Can I play with my new computer, now?” Harry asks, breaking the kiss abruptly.

After explaining to Harry the basics of using his new laptop, Louis settles against his pillows to fiddle with Harry’s mobile, installing apps and setting up accounts for him while he transfers files from his old computer to his new. They don’t talk and Louis doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence, comfortable to just share his space with Harry. From time to time Harry will break the silence and read an old school essay or journal entry from his teenage years, pitching his voice higher to make Louis laugh, but for the most part, the only sounds come from the living room, where Niall is cussing at whoever he’s playing a videogame online with.

Louis’ setting up Harry’s _Snapchat_ account ( _flowerchildh4z_ , the name had made Harry smile and laugh when Louis offered) when he’s hit with a detail from the night before that he filed away for later, forgetting to ask Harry in his haste to give him head.

“Haz, what’s a twink? Nick called me that, last night.”

Looking up from the screen, Harry frowns. “He did? He probably meant it as an insult. Joke’s on him.” Harry quickly types on the keyboard before turning the laptop for Louis to see. “That’s a twink.”

Dozens of pictures of young, thin and hairless boys fill the screen. “Oh. Yeah, I suppose that’s me.” He frowns. “I’ve got hair, though. On my chest, a bit, and, hum, down. Should I… shave?”

Harry closes the tab with a shake of his head. “No. I love you the way you are. I don’t want to have sex with a little boy, anyway. Don’t pay attention to anything Nick says. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“He succeeds,” Louis says calmly, keeping his eyes on Harry’s mobile. “I don’t like him.”

“I don’t like him either. Not anymore.”

“I don’t understand how you could ever like him.”

Harry sighs. “I was young and he looked so cool to me, at the time. This older man interested in me, I felt amazing. I’m sure you get it.”

“It’s not the same. You’re not a terrible person.”

With a laugh, Harry leans over to kiss Louis’ shoulder. “Thanks, babe. He wasn’t terrible, at first. He was charming and loving, it just got bad. He got bored with me, I think. I wasn’t such a good boyfriend, either. We both failed each other.”

Louis leans into Harry’s side, resting his head against his shoulder. “Do you think it’ll happen to us?”

“I can’t guarantee you that, baby. No one can.” Putting down the computer, Harry wraps his arms around Louis. “But I can tell you that I never loved him like I love you.”

Louis nods, rubbing his cheek against Harry’s shirt. “Okay. I can live with that.”

Glancing at the mobile in Louis’ hands, Harry frowns. “Please, Lou, tell your out-dated boyfriend what’s _Snapchat_.”

“It’s this app that lets you send pictures, but only for a short amount of time. Like…” Picking up his own mobile, Louis takes a picture of Harry and sends it to him, taking his phone and opening the notification. “See, if you tap it…” he does it, laughing at the terrible picture, “You can only see it for a few seconds before it’s gone, unless you do a screen capture, like this.” Louis shows Harry, who frowns.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Haz, use your imagination,” Louis deadpans.

“I can’t… Oh! Oh, okay, yeah. Sexy pictures. At least now I know how to do them.”

“I’m going to need an explanation,” Louis says with a giggle, kissing Harry’s jaw.

“Well, hum, when I was with Nick, once, he wanted a picture of me and I sent it to him, but I didn’t know that you need to be hard in those.”

“Oh, my god,” Louis says, barely holding back his giggles.

“Yeah. I sent him a picture of my limp dick. He wasn’t impressed.”

Louis bursts out laughing, burying his face against Harry’s shoulder. “Do you still have it? I want to see it!”

“No, I deleted it years ago. Sorry.”  
Louis pouts, nuzzling Harry’s jaw. “You’ll have to send me a new one, then.”

“Limp?”

Making a show out of rolling his eyes, Louis leans up for a kiss, smiling against Harry’s lips. “Not limp, no. Even I know that and I was a virgin a month ago. Now, you should feed me,” Louis says before Harry can protest. “I’m paying for takeout, you and Niall choose what you want to eat.”

They settle on Indian and Louis intentionally orders too much, making sure to fill the fridge with a week worth of leftovers. Harry looks at him like he knows what Louis is doing with the delivery boy gives them their three large bags of food, but he says nothing, instead kissing Louis as soon as the door is shut, making Niall groan and shout that he’s going to start eating whether they choose to go fuck first or not.

The three of them spend the evening watching terrible movies on _Netflix_ , laughing and commenting out loud, and Louis can’t stop grinning. He’s sprawled over Harry, the older man holding him close with his arms around his chest. Louis falls asleep that way, well into their third movie of the night and only waking up when Harry carries him to bed and gently takes off his clothes, tucking him in with a kiss to his forehead. Louis struggles to stay awake long enough to wait for Harry to join him before he curls up into his side and lets out a happy, content sigh.

The next morning, Louis wakes up with a large bouquet of flower on the pillow next to him and Harry’s smile as he tells him that they all mean ‘I’m sorry’. Louis pushes the bouquet away and lunges at Harry to kiss him senseless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Snapchat account really exists, I made it. I had grand plans to take, like, pictures of flowers and pretend to be Harry, but those plans were thwarted by the fact that it's currently January in Canada.
> 
>  
> 
> **[EDIT:[Harry Styles wants me dead](https://twitter.com/Harry_Styles/status/556149504693780481?s=09). The coincidence between me posting this chapter and his tweet an hour later makes me twitch.]**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all so much for the comments! You're all lovely.

The conservatory is cold and humid when they enter it, so Louis runs back in to go get them blankets, handing one to Perrie before curling up in a chaise longue, watching her do the same. With September rolling in, it’s become too cold and windy on cloudy days to lounge outside and watch Harry work, so Louis has started doing so from inside the conservatory, making faces at Harry through the windows whenever he looks his way. At the moment, he’s making his way across the yard and pushing a wheelbarrow full of tools, his wellies sinking into the muddy grass with each step.

“I miss the days of shirtless Fit Gardener,” Perrie says with a sigh, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She winks at Louis, who rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Louis replies airily, thinking back to the pictures they’d sent each other the night before on Snapchat, the best ones saved in his phone. He strokes it through his pocket, pondering whether he should text Harry to tell him to look over or not.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” she replies, laughing. “How was your weekend at his place, then? Do anything fun?”

“You could at least try and be subtle when you ask for details.”

“I’m not! I’m just saying, if you feel like telling me all about the things you got up to when you spent a whole weekend at your boyfriend’s, you can. I won’t mind. That’s what I’m here for.”

“To vicariously live through my sex life?”

Perrie perks up, grinning. “You’ve got one, now?”

“Have you seen who I’m dating?” Louis asks flippantly before giggling, pulling his knees up against his chest and wrapping the blanket around them. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got one. We’ve done a couple of things.”

“Ignoring the fact that it’s super upsetting that I’m only learning about this now, go on. Tell me everything.”

“Sorry about that, by the way,” Louis says, genuinely sorry for having kept it silent. “It was just easier to tell Zayn about this, you know?”

“Are you referring to the fact that I’m dating a girl?” Perrie asks before laughing. “You’re forgiven, I’ve neglected you, too, this summer. We’re terrible at keeping in touch.”

Louis nods, reaching over to take Perrie’s hand and squeeze it. “Alright, so, hum, three weeks ago, Mum took the family out to the country for the weekend. I stayed here.”

From there, Louis tells her everything about the past three weeks, leaving no details out, including his own insecurities. He skips over his fight of the past weekend, though, deciding that it’s not his place to tell someone about Harry’s issues, especially not the monetary ones. He understands misplaced pride and respects it. Through the entire story, Perrie laughs and applauds at all the right places. It makes Louis realise that his life might actually be interesting, unlike what he’d always imagined. Take that, Zayn. Louis, too, can have crazy sex stories. 

“So, yeah, that’s pretty much it. And right before I left his flat, on Sunday, he carried me to his room and gave me head one last time just because he could, he said,” Louis concludes with a giggle. He’s flustered and he knows his eyes are shining with all the love he feels for Harry, but he honestly doesn’t care. Talking about Harry makes him feel like he’s floating on cloud nine, like nothing bad can happen. He feels invincible.

From behind him, Louis hears the door click shut. He turns around fast enough to give himself whiplash, but no one is there. He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. He’s turning into a crazy paranoiac, especially now that he and Harry are sending each other saucy pictures at night. He can never shake the feeling that everyone in the house knows what he’s doing behind his closed door. Well, his mother probably can, but technically, his sisters still don’t know. As for his stepfather, Louis would know if he knew, without a doubt.

“I’m so happy for you,” Perrie says when he’s done, smiling brightly. “But I have to ask: have you guys talked about next month? You’re moving back to Oxford soon, babe.”

“I know,” Louis says, sighing. His mood is plummeting almost instantly and he curls up more under the blanket, searching for Harry in the yard. He can’t see him and sighs even more. “We haven’t really talked about it, no. Like, we know it’ll happen, but we haven’t… we don’t know what we’ll do. But we’re in love, it means it’ll be alright, yeah?”

“I suppose,” Perrie says, sounding uncertain. Sometimes, Louis hates his friends for being honest with him. He wishes they’d lie from time to time. “Long-distance is never easy, though.”

“I’m not going to study in California, I’m going to Oxford. The buses are cheap. He could visit.”

“Would that be enough?”

“It’ll have to be,” Louis says, shrugging. He rests his chin on his knees and sighs, feeling his throat tighten.

He tries not to think about the future. Their present is already uncertain enough as it it, the secrecy making him feel like what they’re doing is somehow wrong. Whenever he’s not with Harry, he becomes filled with doubts and fears. What if Harry gets sick of him? What if they have a fight that they can’t fix? What if they fall out of love? He’s slowly begun to build his life around Harry over the summer, especially in the second half when he’d spend most of his afternoons either with him or watching him. He can’t go back to how lonely he was before, locked up in his room watching Netflix until his eyes burned, but he might have to once he’s back in Oxford. He won’t have Harry readily available to entertain him except through text messages and Skype and he already knows it won’t be enough. Just now, only two days after he came back from spending the weekend with him, he already misses him so much that it aches and he hates how much he’s built his life around Harry in such a short span of time. He’s always been able to be independent, not needing anyone by his side to go through life, but now even the idea of going one night without talking to Harry makes him feel queasy. Harry has filled a void that Louis didn’t even know he had, making him feel important and _seen_ where he’d always felt second best and invisible. The fact that he might lose it all soon is unbearable.

Saying goodbye to Perrie a few hours later and skipping dinner to go straight to bed, Louis curls up under his blankets and pulls his laptop closer, watching the time compulsively until he knows Harry will be back home and logged on. He has two hours and they feel even longer than usual. On normal days, he manages to exchange at least a few words with Harry as he works, but Perrie had kept him too busy for that. This change, added to the thoughts that have been running through his mind all day, make him yearn for his boyfriend’s reassurance. He only wishes Harry could hold him, too, but a trip to London is out of the question. It’d raise suspicions.

Louis is about to call Harry on his phone just to hear his voicemail message when his stepfather walks into his room without knocking. Sitting up, Louis breathes in, ready to explode at the lack of privacy in this bloody house, when he notices the suitcase in his stepfather’s hands. He frowns.

“You’re going on holiday?” Louis asks, cautious.

“No, not at all. But you’re leaving,” he says. His voice cuts through the air like a winter wind, cold and unforgiving.

“In a month, yeah. You’re almost free of me!” Louis gives him a big, fake smile.

“You’re leaving now.”

“Have you lost your mind? We’re in September, the term begins in October,” Louis says slowly, talking like he would to a particularly daft child. Despite the act he’s putting on, his heart is hammering in his chest and he’s light-headed with fear. He feels like the floor dropped from under his feet.

Dropping the suitcase on the floor unceremoniously, his stepfather crosses the room and grabs Louis by the arm, forcing him out of bed. Louis yelps and tries to break free, but the man’s grip is vice-like.

“You’re done laughing in my face, you ungrateful twat,” he snaps, pulling Louis along. “You pack your things and leave my house.”

“And where do you expect me to go?” Louis says, trying his best to sound brave. “Just because Mum’s at Nan’s for the week doesn’t mean you get to kick her son out.”

“This isn’t your mother’s house and I will not have a fag living here. Especially not one who’s robbing me. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Louis freezes, the blood draining from his face. He must have heard it wrong, it can’t be right. This man has been his stepfather since the time he was two years old, it’s got to count for something, he can’t just call Louis a… _that_ after eighteen years of begrudging parenthood. He just can’t. “What did you call me?”

“I won’t ask you again: pack your things and leave.”

“What did you call me?” Louis shouts, wrenching his arm free. He has to know even if the knowledge might destroy him.

“I called you a bloody _fag_ ,” his stepfather yells in return, losing his composure. “I heard you this afternoon telling that poor Edwards girl all the disgusting details of your perverted life. And as if it weren’t enough, I saw your credit card bill. Did you honestly think I’d let you rob me?!”

Shaking like a leaf, Louis swallows against the taste of bile that filled his mouth, paling even more when he sees his sisters peering into the room from the doorway. Pressing his lips together, he shakes his head. “You can’t kick me out.”

“Watch me,” he replies before heading for Louis’ closet and throwing clothes out. “Your room will make a wonderful nursery for my future son. My _real_ son.”

“Lou, you’re gay?” Charlotte asks and Louis nods at her, swallowing back his tears. “Dad, come on. You can’t do that,” she then says, walking into the room.

“Stay out of this, Charlotte. It has nothing to do with you. Take the twins away, too. They don’t need to see this.”

“It does! It’s got something to do with all of us, you’re kicking out our brother for no reason!”

“Charlotte, I won’t say it twice.”

To Louis (and his stepfather’s) surprise, the girls line up to block the doorway, shaking their heads.

“We’re not letting you throw him out, Dad,” Felicite adds, lifting her chin defiantly. On either side of her, the twins cross their arms over their chest, shaking their heads resolutely.

Louis forgets his panic temporarily as a surge of affection takes over him. He bites his lip, his eyes watering, and looks at the pile of clothes abandoned in the floor. For a moment, no one moves or says a word. It’s like time forgot to keep moving inside the four walls of the room.

Then, all at once, Louis sees his stepfather inflate with rage and he comes to a decision, one he knows he’ll regret in the future, but the only one he can take now. Acting on instinct as he feels like the man is about to take his anger out on the girls, Louis unzips the suitcase and begins packing it haphazardly, throwing in the first things he can put his hand on.

“You’re not kicking me out. I’m leaving,” he says, clearing his throat when his voice comes out rough. He pulls the power chord of his computer from the wall and throws it on top of the heap of clothes, placing the laptop over it after and then adding his mobile charger. Slipping into his loafers, he zips up the suitcase and places it upwards, swallowing around the knot in his throat. “I’m sorry, girls.”

“Where will you go?” Felicite asks.

“My boyfriend’s,” he replies, winking at her. He even manages to force a smile as he pulls her into a hug. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Letting go of Felicite, he takes Charlotte in his arms. “Take care of them for me, yeah? Explain what happened to the twins, I don’t have time.”

“I will.” Charlotte hugs him tighter. “You’re totally shagging the gardener, aren’t you?” she whispers.

Louis laughs, squeezing her tightly. “I might be, yeah.”

She pinches his waist before taking a step back. “Lucky bastard.”

Taking a deep breath, Louis moves on to the twins, crouching down to be at their height. “I’m going, okay? But you can call me whenever you want. It’s just like when I go away for school,” he says softly, wiping his eyes before they notice he’s crying. “I love you.”

The twins nod and he hugs them tightly, burying his face in their hair for a moment before he lets go. He ruffles Daisy’s hair and grabs his suitcase, wheeling it out of the room without a look back at his stepfather. As far as he’s concerned, the man is dead. He walks swiftly, heading for the gates as he calls a cab. He wants to be out of sight of the house as he waits in case the wanker decides he hasn’t insulted Louis enough already and needs to do it some more. All things considered, Louis thinks, he’s surprisingly calm.

His calm melts away when he sits in the cab and watches his house recede in the distance. The tears he’s been holding back finally escape and he pulls his knees up, hugging them tightly and burying his face in them as he begins sobbing. He catches the driver’s worried glances in the rear-view mirror and every time he does, he shakes his head to try and tell him that he’s fine, nothing to worry about, he’ll be perfectly fine. Maybe. Or not. His money’s on ‘not at all’.

It takes nearly an hour to get to Harry’s flat, as usual, and by the time they get there Louis has stopped crying. Instead, he’s staring out of the window without really saying anything, the scene replaying over and over again in his head, feeling unreal. It’s like he watched himself living it. He tips the driver generously before he slips into the building after one of Harry’s neighbours left, hurrying before the door locks and he has to ring. He climbs the stairs as fast as he can, lifting his suitcase with difficulty and wiping at his eyes angrily when he starts crying again at the thought that this dingy building is his new home. He’s done crying over him, he’s done, he’s so fucking done, he’s not going to shed one more tear over that wanker, _he’s not_.

He’s out of breath when he reaches Harry’s floor and he waits for his breath to come back to normal, even if, in this case, ‘normal’ means ‘shuddery because of too much crying’. He can hear the sounds of a video game coming from the other side of the door and Harry’s laugh, and it makes his heart tighten and a fresh batch of tears pour from his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Louis knocks on the door, wiping his eyes and trying to look composed.

Harry is looking over his shoulder and telling Niall something when he opens the door. The simple sight of him is enough to make Louis start sobbing once more and the sound makes Harry whip his head around to look at him with a gasp.

“Lou? Are you alright?” he asks, pulling Louis in and shutting the door behind him. “What are you doing here, baby? Is something wrong? What happened?” Harry’s voice rises with panic with every question.

Louis tries to answer, but his voice catches in his throat and what comes out is a sob. He drops his suitcase on the floor and walks up to Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist and hiding in face against his chest. Harry immediately holds him tight, stroking his back and kissing his forehead.

“It’s okay, sunshine, you’re okay, I’ve got you.” Loud explosion noises come from the television and they both look at it for a second. Niall gives them a sheepish smile and pauses his game, downing his beer and looking like he wished he were a thousand miles away. “Let’s go to my room,” Harry whispers.

Louis nods and picks up his suitcase, following Harry to his bedroom and sniffling as tears run freely down his face. Harry pulls him on his bed once they’re in the room, gathering him up in his arms and rocking him softly. Louis buries his face in Harry’s neck and cries, hating himself because it seems it’s all he’s been doing for the past hour, and he keeps crying until it feels like he has no tears left.

“What happened?” Harry whispers once Louis has calmed down, stroking his hair soothingly.

Louis wipes his eyes and looks up at Harry, holding his gaze for a second before he looks down, feeling terrible for what he’s about to do.

They’ve been together for a month and it has been the best month of Louis’ life. He’s never felt this happy and fulfilled even if they don’t see each other as often as he wished they would. It’s been a month of giddy, puppy love, but now real life caught up with Louis and he feels like throwing up. He can’t put that burden on Harry, not after only five weeks, it’s not fair.

With a trembling chin, Louis shakes his head, burying his face in Harry’s neck once more. If he never says it, he’ll never have to face the consequences. As long as he hasn’t repeated the words to someone else, they remain intangible, just a bad thing to deal with later. Much, much later, but not now, not when he’s so comfortable in Harry’s arms, feeling like nothing will ever hurt him again.

“Lou, you’re scaring me,” Harry says, concern and worry lacing his voice, making it thicker.

Louis swallows and clings tighter to Harry, allowing himself a few more seconds of denial before he tells Harry. Sniffling, he looks up once more and takes a deep, steadying breath, willing himself to let the words out without crying.

“I was with Perrie earlier,” he begins, delaying the fatidic moment by telling Harry the whole story straight away, hoping it might give him some courage. “And I was telling her about what we’ve been doing, you know, in the past month…” Louis lets out a shaky breath. “And I didn’t know… he wasn’t _supposed_ to be home, he shouldn’t… My stepfather heard me.” 

Louis bites his lips and tries to breathe steadily as the horrifying memories bring back how he felt when it happened, like someone had dropped a bucket of ice water over his head before ripping his heart from his chest and setting it on fire, and that was just the shock. The mortification that had followed was even worse, and the shame, god, he wishes he never has to feel so ashamed again in his life, it was the worst feeling, and it won’t go away, it’s still there, what he has with Harry has been soiled by the shame that’s been forced on him by the words of his stepfather.

He continues, his voice choked by the tears he’s holding back: “He… he didn’t like what he heard. He said…” Louis shakes his head, choosing to cut the story short before his voice breaks, unable to repeat the word he used. “He kicked me out.”

Harry stays silent for a moment, frozen in place. “He kicked you out,” he repeats, a statement rather than a question. 

Louis nods. “I’m homeless,” he says in a squeak. “The girls tried to defend me, but I got scared he was going to hit them so I left.”

“Oh, Lou,” Harry says, taking Louis’ face between his hands. “You’re not homeless, baby, you can stay here. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

Louis shakes his head. “You don’t have to. I’ll go to Perrie’s or… or Zayn’s, or I’ll just move back to Oxford early, I’m not…” Louis gasps when he realises that his stepfather will probably cancel his credit card and bank account, leaving Louis homeless and dirt poor. He can’t even move back into his own flat, he won’t be able to afford it even if he gets a job; it’s not exactly the kind of flat you can pay with a part-time job in a shop. “I can’t go back to Oxford, he won’t… he’ll stop paying for my shit, I’m… I’ve got nothing, oh my god.”

“Shh, baby, don’t worry about anything, I’ve got you. You’ll live here with me until he calms down.” Harry puts his hand to the back of Louis’ head, pressing it down against him, cradling it to his chest and scratching his scalp soothingly. “I’ll take care of you until things go back to normal.”

“They’ll never go back to normal!” Louis says, pushing against Harry’s hand to sit up. “Don’t you get it? He kicked me out, he never wants to see me again because I’m a fag!”

“He said that?” Harry sounds angrier than Louis has ever heard him. “I’m quitting. Fuck his yard and his bloody miserable pay checks, I’m never setting foot there again.”

“No, no, oh my god, you can’t quit!” Louis replies, his voice rising with panic. “If you quit, we’ll have to live on Niall’s wages only! We can’t do that!” 

The very idea of being poor petrifies Louis with fear. He doesn’t know how to approach it. It looms in his mind like a threatening beast, its shadow covering everything else with darkness. Bitterly, he thinks that picturing poverty as a sleeping dragon might not exactly be the best image.

“I’ll find another job. There’s always social welfare.” Harry doesn’t say it, but Louis knows that there’s also the option of Louis finding a job. 

He’s never worked in his entire life. Panic and anxiety grip him at the simple thought of having to take on a minimum wage job now that he can’t go to college anymore. He pulls Harry’s shirt in his fists, burying his face against it.

“I can’t work for a homophobe, Lou. I have principles.”

“But we need the income,” Louis says miserably, shaking his head over and over again. “The summer is almost over and then you can get unemployment benefits, right? It’s just one more month, you can’t quit. We can’t be poor.”

“We’re already poor, Lou.” Harry sighs. “Before we panic, we’ll wait, yeah? Your mum will do something, she won’t just let him kick you out like that.”

Louis hadn’t thought about it. “You’re right. My mum will talk to him, it’ll be fine.” He breathes out a sigh of relief, melting against Harry. “We’ll be okay, Mum won’t let me starve.”

“Of course not,” Harry says soothingly, stroking Louis’ back. “You’ll be fine, I promise. And in the meantime, I’m quitting. I’m thinking about making a scene, like, I’ll storm into his office and tell him I’m fucking his son or something.”

Louis snorts and rolls his eyes. “Don’t quit. You can make a scene at the end of the last day of your contract. Just not now. Please.” He swallows, sniffles. “You’ll be my only link with my family. You’ll have to keep an eye on my sisters for me.”

Harry is silent for a moment before he kisses the top of Louis’ head. “Okay. I’ll do this for you. Do you want to stay here? Or we could go watch Niall get his arse kicked at _Halo_ by fourteen year olds? It’d change your mind,” Harry asks softly, stroking Louis’ back. “Or we can cuddle in bed.”

“We can go see Niall. You’re right, it’d change my mind. I need it,” Louis replies, sniffling.

Before Louis can get off the bed, Harry grips him tighter and lifts him up, carrying him bridal style to the living and installing him comfortably on the couch, fetching a blanket from a closet in the hallway to wrap Louis in.

“Hey, Lou,” Niall says distractedly. “You okay, mate?”

Louis shrugs. “Not really.”

“Do you want to play?” Niall offers, pausing the game and handing the controller to Louis.

Louis looks up at Harry, who’s placing biscuits on a plate. Harry gives him an encouraging smile and a nod.

“I’ve never played. I’m not in the mood. I…” Louis swallows thickly, figuring that Niall might as well know that he’s got a new flatmate. “I’ve been kicked out. I live here, now. My stepfather called me a fag, too,” Louis adds, wiping his nose on the blanket.

“He what?!” Niall snaps, gripping the controller tightly. “Fuck him, Lou. I know what you need.” Getting off the armchair, Niall kneels by the console, changing the game that’s in it. The load screen appears and Louis frowns when he reads _Left 4 Dead 2_. “You need to violently kill zombies.”

An hour later, Louis’s cursing at the screen as he furiously presses buttons, swinging a katana at the horde of zombies charging at him. Harry is playing a game on his mobile, his legs stretched on Louis’ lap, and for a brief moment, as Louis takes in the scene, he can almost believe he’ll be alright.

\---

Louis learns quickly that he isn’t cut out for cohabitation with more than one flatmate. 

The cohabitation with Harry is going splendidly, that’s not the problem. It’s only been a week and already, Louis can’t imagine a life in which he doesn’t go to sleep next to Harry and wake up with a mouthful of hair and his big oaf of a boyfriend lying half on top of him. He’d prefer if those mornings didn’t start at 5, when Harry’s alarm for work rings, but at the same time, Louis loves the kisses Harry gives him before telling him to go back to sleep. He loves greeting Harry at the door after a long day of work and seeing the flowers he brought him that day, different species that say ‘I love you’ every day, and he loves cuddling with him all evening before they go to bed together and fool around. Louis _loves_ having sex every day. That’s probably the best part of it all.

He’s still sad, obviously he’s still sad, but Harry is taking such good care of him that he can almost forget it at times, the hurt turning into a dull ache rather than the sparkling, burning white hot knife in his guts feeling of the first days. It’s harder when he’s alone all day, whenever Niall is out and Harry is working and he has the flat to himself. On those days, he feels trapped within the four walls, like a caged animal, and he often finds himself pacing back and forth, wringing his hands as he waits for the tightness in his chest to recede and for his thoughts to slow down, to stop going at three thousand miles an hour.

He’s been in contact with his mother and sisters, the phone call with his mother particularly painful. He cried the entire time, clutching a pillow to his chest as he listened to his mother comforting him in a soothing voice laced with anger. He’d hated himself after it for making her angry when she’s due to give birth any time, now, but he hadn’t been able to keep quiet what her husband had called him. Anyway, he imagines Charlotte must have told her. The girls, he’s been texting, especially Felicite, who seems to have been the one most shaken by the events. He wishes he could hug her and tell her everything will be all right like he used to when she got nightmares when she was younger, but the distance between his house and the flat seems insurmountable. The twins don’t understand to what extent the situation is bad, only thinking that Louis moved out because he was going away to school early. He doesn’t have the heart to tell them that their father is the hugest, most disgusting arsehole to ever walk the Earth. He can’t ruin their childhood; they’ll find out soon enough on their own.

The hardest part of the situation is living with Niall. Not that Niall isn’t a good flatmate: he’s funny and does his part of the chores – the inclusion of Louis in the chores chart had almost made him cry, making his move there too permanent for what he could handle at the moment – and often cooks at night when Harry is too tired from work. He’s a good cook, although Louis is already getting tired of eating potatoes.

No, the problem is that Niall has no understanding of privacy and closed doors mean nothing to him. Louis had already gotten a taste of it the morning Niall jumped in bed with them to panic about having slept with Zayn – and Louis makes sure to remind him whenever he can – but he gets the confirmation that he might need to start moving furniture in front of the door if he wants privacy on his fifth night in the flat.

Harry had a particularly gruelling day and came home with a backache, wincing whenever he moved. After dinner, Louis offered to run him a bath and massage his back. Harry agreed immediately, but once in the water, he changed his mind and asked Louis to join him. Louis complied immediately, stripping off his clothes and climbing in with Harry, clumsily settling himself on top of him and in between his legs. Comfortable, quiet cuddling had turned steamy rather fast when Louis moved the slow, lazy kisses he was planting on Harry’s neck to his lips, and before long Harry’s long legs were raised up and bracketing Louis’ hips as they snogged, Louis’ bum jutting out of the water as he kneeled between Harry’s legs.

That was the moment Niall chose to enter the bathroom without knocking and take a piss like they weren’t there.

“Oh my god, get out!” Louis screeched, trying to move away, but slipping on the porcelain and falling on top of Harry, who let out a huff as water sloshed out of the tub.

“I won’t be long, don’t mind me,” Niall said like it was completely normal to take a piss while your flatmates were hooking up in the bathtub a foot away.

“You forgot to lock the door!” Louis turned his attention to Harry, frowning angrily.

“It doesn’t lock.” Harry shrugged, moving his hand down Louis’ back, trying to kiss him again.

Louis pushed him away, hoping with all his might that the foam was hiding his bum from view. “You could have knocked!” Louis protested.

“It couldn’t wait,” Niall replied, glancing at them. “Nice bum, Lou.” 

With a squawk, Louis tried to get lower under the water. He was blushing all the way down to his chest and hiding his face in Harry’s neck as a feeling of profound mortification was sinking on him. He refused to move until Niall had left the room and then immediately got out of the bath, ignoring Harry’s protestations and pout.

After this incident, Louis always made sure to be quick in the bathroom. If he could afford it, he’d buy a new lock for the bathroom, but, well, that’s another problem: his stepfather cancelled his credit card 48 hours after kicking him out. Louis had the time to fill the flat with food, but he knows their reserves won’t last forever. That’s not to mention that he and Harry had an argument in the supermarket when it became glaringly obvious that Louis has luxury tastes that they won’t be able to afford. In his defence, Louis never had to think about the price of what he was buying, before. The learning curve is steep. He doesn’t even want to think about his and Harry’s mobile bills, yet. The mere thought of them gives him spikes of anxiety that take hours to go away.

On day nine of Louis’ new life, a dreary rainy day, the door buzzer goes off. Looking up from his laptop, Louis frowns at Harry. Rain means that he gets to have Harry with him all day. He loves rainy days, now.

“Are we expecting someone?”

Harry shrugs, getting up to buzz their guest in. “Might be they rang the wrong door.” He walks out of the flat to peer down the stairs and seconds later, he hears Harry exclaim ‘ _oh my god!_ ’ loudly before running down the steps.

Curious, Louis follows him out, only to have the breath knocked out of him when he sees Harry slowly helping his mother up the stairs.

“Mum?” he asks, breathless, his hands over his mouth. 

“Hi, boo,” she says, smiling despite the visible efforts it asks of her to walk up the four floors. 

Louis runs down to help her, taking her arm and looking at her, not quite able to believe she’s really there. He waits until she’s seated on their couch and has had a tall glass of water before hugging her, holding her as tightly as he can and burying his nose in her neck, breathing in her familiar scent.

“What are you doing here?” Louis asks after he’s curled up into her side, his head on her shoulder. He strokes her belly and returns the smile she gives him.

“I’m here to see you, baby. And to apologise to you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m sorry I married an imbecile for his money and that he’s been giving you hell since you were a kid. I’m sorry it came to this, I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it. And I’m sorry there’s nothing I can do. He won’t take you back in.”

“I didn’t expect him to,” Louis says darkly, smiling when he feels one of the twins kick. “But it’s not your fault, Mum. You did what you thought was best.”

“Still,” she says, sighing. “I’m bloody angry at him.”

Harry coughs, smiling timidly when they look at him. “I’m going to run to the shop, yeah? I’ll give you a moment. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Harry, come here,” Johannah says, motioning for Harry to come nearer. “I don’t think I can get out of this couch on my own, but I’ve got a hug to give you.”

Harry approaches, bending down carefully to let Johannah hug him. She whispers something to him that Louis can’t hear, but it makes Harry smile and nod. Getting back up, Harry presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead, stroking his hair at the same time.

“Do you need anything, love?”

“No, I’m good,” Louis answers, smiling up at Harry.

“Lou, baby,” Johannah says, motioning at her purse. “Give my card to Harry. You get whatever you guys need, yeah? It’s on me.”

“No, honestly, I can’t…” Harry begins, but a glare from Louis shuts him up. He takes the card Louis hands him and pockets it, biting his lip. “Thank you, Mrs Tomlinson. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. And call me Jay, please. Everyone does.” 

“Okay, thank you, Jay,” Harry corrects himself, kissing Louis one last time before he leaves, grabbing an umbrella on his way out. 

Louis’ mother waits until Harry has left to smile at Louis. “He’s lovely.”

Pressing his lips together against a smile, Louis nods. “He is. I’m in good hands, Mum. He takes really good care of me.”

“I can see that. I expected to find you in tears, but you look fine. Should I be insulted?” she teases, laughing when Louis groans and rolls his eyes.

“Well, I’m upset about what he did, but… I get to spend all of my time with my boyfriend, now.” Louis lowers his voice, shy. “I get laid every night and all.”

Johannah barks out a laugh, putting a hand on her belly. “Oh, baby. I really didn’t need to know this, but I’m happy for you.”

Louis giggles, nodding. “But it’s still hard,” he continues once they’ve both calmed down. “I don’t know how to be poor. Haz and I had a fight in the middle of Tesco’s a few days ago because I got offended that he wanted to buy generic brands.”

“Yeah, I saw that bill pass. He wasn’t happy.”

“Good,” Louis says. “That was the goal.” After that, he sighs. “I miss the girls.”

“They miss you, too. The twins, especially. They’re confused. But don’t worry, Lottie, Fizzy and I explained to them that the word their father used was a very, very bad one and that it wasn’t a bad thing that you liked boys and that they might like girls and it’d be okay, too.”

“How did they take it?” Louis asks, getting emotional to hear about the twins. He tightens his grip around his mother’s arm.

“They nodded and then asked if they could go play. They’re too young to really understand what happened. They did say that Harry was nice and let them help him, sometimes, so it was okay that you loved him.”

Louis smiles, resting his head on his mother’s shoulder once more. Without realising that he does it, he places his hand back on her belly, stroking it and giggling when he feels another kick.

“There’s another reason why I came,” Johannah says, breaking the silence. “I’m bringing the offer of a compromise.” 

“I’m not going to law school,” Louis says immediately.

“If you do, he’ll pay your tuition and your rent for the duration of your studies. He regrets what he said, you know.” She sighs. “Think about it, boo. I know you don’t want to, but sometimes we must do things we hate for the greater good.”

“Like you married him so I’d never be hungry again?” Louis says, forlorn.

“Exactly. You’ve got to think long-term, baby. If you want to stay with Harry, you’ll have to be the one to bring in money.” Louis tenses and she eases him with a kiss on the cheek. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but your boy will never make you live. You have the opportunity to give the two of you a comfortable life. It’s not the job you want, I know, but it’s a job. It can be just that: a job. It doesn’t have to define who you are. But believe me, it’s easier to have a happy life when you don’t worry about what’ll be on your plate tomorrow, even if you don’t like some parts of it. Don’t underestimate financial stability.”

Louis sighs, but says nothing for a moment, letting his mother’s words sink in. He hates that she’s convincing him. “Let me think about it.”

“That’s all I ask, love. Don’t completely close the door.” Kissing his cheek once more, she straightens up. “Now, if you go to my car, I’ve brought you some more clothes. You left in a hurry, I figured you left most of everything behind.”

Louis grins, happy that she changed the subject. “I’ve been wearing Harry’s clothes way too much. He’s too tall, they look ridiculous on me.”

It takes Louis three trips to get all the bags up to the fourth floor and he collapses into Niall’s armchair when he’s done, feeling like his arms have turned to jelly. “You could have said you brought my entire wardrobe.”

“Surprise!” his mother says, laughing.

Harry comes back with two full bags of all the extras they didn’t buy the last time, biscuits and ice cream and junk food they couldn’t justify buying. At the bottom, Louis finds a lot of utility things he wouldn’t have thought of, like tile cleaner and light bulbs, and he stops Harry on his way to the pantry to kiss him in an attempt to show him just how grateful he is that Harry’s there to keep him alive.

Johannah stays for dinner and she and Harry split their time between teasing Louis and talking about her pregnancy. Louis stays quiet and watches them, charmed and amazed by the way Harry is so enthusiastic about it, asking timidly if he can touch her belly before giggling with delight when he feels a kick, calling Louis over to do the same and watching him with a grin until he, too, feels one.

Later that night, after she left and they got in bed, Louis hesitates for a while to tell Harry about the terms his stepfather offered. He glances at Harry, looking back at his laptop when he gets caught, and it’s only when Harry shuts the lid on Louis’ hands that Louis sighs and decides to tell him.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks, putting down his book.

“Just… something my mum told me. A message from my stepfather.” Harry hums, prompting Louis on. “If I go to law school, he’ll support me financially until I graduate. I can’t come back home, but… there’s that. I could go back to school.”

Harry nods. “And what will you do?”

Louis shrugs. “I don’t know. I really don’t want to be a lawyer,” he says, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t break.

“It’s your decision. I won’t mind whatever you choose, okay?”

Louis swallows. “But what do you think I should do?”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m not telling you. It’s your choice and I don’t want to influence it.”

“What would you do if you were me?”

“Lou,” Harry says with a sigh. “I’m not going to tell you. You need to make that decision on your own.”

“But it affects the both of us! If I don’t go to law school, we’ll be poor for the rest of our lives. We don’t have degrees, we’ll live in shit flats forever.”

“Does it matter? You have to decide if it matters to you.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You know it matters. It’s the difference between living with Niall ten years from now or having our own house where to raise our kids.” He bites his lip, realising he’s said too much. He pales.

“Okay, we’re not having the kids conversation right now, but yes, before you panic, I want to have children. This being said, I think your choice is already made.”

With a groan, Louis places his laptop on the floor and turns his back to Harry, pulling the duvet to his chin. “Good night.”

Harry leans over to kiss his cheek. “Good night. I love you.”

Louis only hums in reply, sinking deeper under the duvet, feeling childish and ashamed of his reaction. He just hates being wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re: this chapther, picture me saying 'eeeeehhh' with a vague hand motion.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost over! Only two chapters left and they're relatively short--around 7,000 words for one and then the epilogue, which is under 2000 words. Thanks for sticking around and giving me such positive feedback! I love you all.
> 
> Also, shout-out to the worst hangover I've ever had for helping me with this chapter. Never thought I'd ever be thankful for the day in July 2010 that I spent curled up under a blanket marathoning Harry Potter with a friend while fighting my body so it would keep chicken broth down. Don't ever eat gummy bears steeped in vodka for a week and then do jell-o shots and drink wine and blue curaçao in the same night, is all I'll say.
> 
> ANYWAY.

Louis’ mother gives birth five days later and he’s not there, which makes him feel slightly better than if he’d been run over by a train before being thrown into the ocean with his feet in a concrete block. Only _slightly_.

They get the call in the middle of the night, Louis’ phone waking up the entire flat when it rings. He immediately sits up straight; his mother and sisters are on a whitelist, their calls come through even if his phone is on silent. His first thought, before he even remembers that his mother is pregnant, is: someone died.

Scrambling in the dark for his phone, he first knocks it to the ground before Harry clicks the light on, allowing Louis to pick it up and answer. He sits back against the wall and gives Harry an anxious, panicked glance. Harry, hair a mess and pillow printed on his cheek, scoots closer to rest his head on Louis’ shoulder comfortingly.

“Hello? Is everything all right?”

“ _Hey, Lou, it’s Lottie, don’t panic, everyone’s fine, but we’re on our way to the hospital, Mum’s in labour. Fizzy stayed home with the girls, we’re all okay, don’t panic. I’ll keep you updated, yeah?_ ”

“Which hospital are you going to? I’ll come, just tell me where,” Louis says in a rush, already climbing out of bed. 

“Hospital?” Harry asks.

Covering the mouthpiece with his hand, Louis turns to Harry. “Mum’s in labour. Lottie? Just tell me where you’re going.”

Louis can hear Charlotte ask someone where they’re going, then the sound of his mother crying out in pain. He nearly drops his phone. After that comes the rough, cold voice of his stepfather before Charlotte speaks again.

“ _Dad says you can’t come—yes, Dad, I’m telling him the truth, all right? He’s my brother and Mum wants him there, you’re a minority in this car right now so just don’t, not right now—sorry, Lou? Sorry. Yeah. You heard that. I’m really sorry._ ”

Louis hangs up on more promises from Charlotte to keep him updated and then sits heavily on the edge of the bed. He can’t say he’s surprised, but expecting it did not make it easier to hear. Harry wraps his arm around Louis’ middle, just pressing his chest against Louis’ back, and his warmth is comforting. Louis leans against him and sighs, sniffling and looking up at the ceiling to swallow back the tears that are threatening to fall.

It takes a lot of coaxing and gentle kisses peppered on Louis’ shoulder for Harry to convince him to go back to bed, carefully laying him down and pulling him against his chest, surrounding him in his warmth and smell until Louis could, if he decided to, forget about everything else and just enjoy Harry’s body next and around his. As it is, though, he instead chooses to cry himself to sleep.

Louis manages to get a few more hours of fitful sleep before he gives up and rolls out of bed a little after eight to go curl up on the couch under a blanket. Harry left him a note on his pillow saying he’d gone to work despite the big event and that he didn’t want to wake up Louis as he left, but Louis’ mood is so foul that he resents him for it rather than being thankful. He really wanted his morning kiss.

Niall comes and goes, threading carefully around Louis. Harry probably warned him. He offers to go downtown to take Louis’ mind off his shit day, but Louis declines it and snatches the remote from Niall’s hands to find something to watch, settling on a _Glee_ marathon on E4. He checks his phone compulsively for news in between naps, but the only messages he gets from Charlotte are all the same: ‘ _still pushing_ ’.

Zayn shows up in the late afternoon with a bottle of wine and a box of Louis’ favourite biscuits.

“Your sister told me you’d need company,” Zayn explains as he plops down on the couch next to Louis, all but sitting on his legs. Louis groans and pulls them out of the way, burrowing deeper in his nest of blankets and sweaters belonging to Harry. “You alone?”

“Niall picked up an earlier shift, he left an hour ago,” Louis says, managing a smirk. He is not _that_ upset. “Disappointed?”

Zayn rolls his eyes and gets up to go find a corkscrew. “No, why would I? I don’t know what you’re imagining, but it’s definitely wrong. Hey,” he says, opening drawers at random. “Where’s the corkscrew?”

“Third drawer, I think.” Louis could get up and help, but he could also stay on the couch. “I’m not imagining anything, I’m just observing that Niall’s been ‘going out with the lads’ much more often than usual, lately. At least, according to Harry. He says it’s suspicious.”

“Why do I care what Niall does?” Zayn asks, rummaging loudly through the drawer before pulling out the corkscrew. He uncorks the bottle and joins Louis in the living room, handing it to him without a glass. He knows Louis too well.

Taking a swig, Louis shrugs. “Just thought you guys got along well, is all.”

“Did you?” Zayn asks, taking the bottle Louis offers him to drink from it.

“Yeah, totally. He was trailing you like a puppy at the party and I’ve never seen you warm up to someone that quickly.”

“You make me sound like I’m aloof or something,” Zayn says before drinking again.

Louis only laughs, extending his hand to get the bottle. He keeps it to himself for a moment, watching the show. The silent treatment will usually do it to get a story out of Zayn.

As he had planned, it takes Zayn three minutes to blurt out: “Okay, fine, I’ve seen him a couple of times, but I don’t think it’s anything serious.”

“You wouldn’t, you’ve never done serious in your life. Speaking from experience—“

“You’ve had one boyfriend and by some sort of miracle he turned out to be your soulmate, fuck off.”

Louis ignores him. “Speaking from experience, serious is fun. You should try serious.”

Zayn hums, pulling the bottle of wine out of Louis’ hands to having a sip. “Serious is scary, though.”

“Terrifying,” Louis agrees. “But Niall’s a good guy. You and I, we’re arseholes, but Niall has got, like, a pure soul.”

Zayn snorts. “Fucking lightweight.”

“Have you quite finished? I’m trying to watch telly.”

Pushing at his shoulder with a groan, Zayn settles into the couch and opens the box of biscuits, handing it to Louis. He takes three and piles them on the armrest before checking his phone.

_Almost there! Mum has started swearing so much they had to shut the door so she didn’t offend the entire floor_ , Lottie wrote five minutes earlier.

Louis lets out a laugh and shows Zayn, who joins him, and somehow, to have Zayn there makes it a bit easier to be away from his mother on such a big day. It’s easier to feel left out of his own family when he’s got his best mate with him, swapping a bottle of wine between them while watching bad television and eating biscuits, just like they’re back in school and pretending they don’t have midterms and papers to prepare. 

“Hey,” Zayn says after a while in a soft, apologetic voice, “so you probably don’t want to talk about this, but I’ve got to know if I need a new roommate in Oxford.”

With a sigh, Louis burrows deeper under his blankets. “I don’t know. The wanker offered terms, but, like… I don’t know. I’d have to go to law school. I don’t want to think about this now, okay? I’ll… I still need to think about it. Mum says I should do it so Haz and I aren’t poor forever.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Louis sighs again. “I know. Not today, okay? I’ll let you know, though, promised.”

Zayn nods, reaching across the couch to pet Louis through the blankets. “I’ll miss you if you don’t come back, but I understand if you don’t. Just do what makes you happy, yeah? You don’t owe him anything.”

With a smile, Louis nods. “Thanks. I think I needed to hear that.”

Zayn shrugs and smiles before snatching the wine from Louis’ hands and grabbing the remote to switch channels, ignoring Louis’ protest.

By the time Harry comes back from work, Louis is pacing the apartment and clutching his phone in his hands as Charlotte texts him what’s happening second by second. He is still upset that he’s not at the hospital, but his excitement is trumping every other feeling. He knows he’ll be crestfallen once this is all over, but he’s been forlorn all day and those are not the emotions he wants to focus on. Maybe tonight, when he’s cuddled in bed with Harry, he’ll cry, but for the moment, he honestly only wants to shout on rooftops that he’s about to have two new siblings.

“They can see the top of a head!” Louis yells when Harry opens the door. “The first baby’s coming out!”

Harry’s eyes widen and he drops his bag with a grin. “I’d hug you, but I’m gross. Just yell what’s happening while I’m in the shower!” he says, running towards the bathroom and, judging by the sound of it, tripping over his own feet on the way there.

Louis goes back to nibbling on the skin around his thumb, unable to sit or stand still as his heart beats fast enough to scare him. When his phone buzzes once more, he screams.

“It’s a girl! The first baby is a girl!” he yells and he hears a hoot from the shower. 

Zayn is grinning, too, his eyes crinkling like they so rarely do. “Congrats on your hundredth sister, mate!” he says, squawking and ducking out of the way when Louis throws a cushion in his direction.

The wait turns excruciating from that moment on. His mother had decided to keep the sexes a surprise and Louis had been hoping with all his might for at least one boy. Just one baby brother to support him in the sorority his family turned out to be. One boy to roughhouse and play footie with. Just one. That’s all he’s asking for.

His phone buzzes. “The other one’s coming out!” he yells, starting once again to pace through the living room. Pacing turns out to not be satisfying enough, though, so he begins bouncing on his feet with his step, springing back and forth across the room. He’s so full of nervous energy he’s certain that he’s vibrating.

Harry comes back, hair dripping wet and shirt undone, and he sits on the couch next to Zayn, looking as anxious as Louis feels.

“What are we hoping f—”

“A boy,” Louis cuts Harry before he’s even done speaking. “A brother.”

Looking down at his phone when it vibrates, Louis opens the message with shaking fingers. As he reads it, he feels like his heart stops, like his veins turn to ice and for one second, he loses sensation in his extremities. Then, all of his blood comes rushing back in and he bursts into happy tears, putting a shaking hand to his face.

“It’s a boy,” he says, faintly at first, before he repeats it louder. “It’s a boy! I have a brother! Oh my god!” His voice has gone squeaky.

Harry and Zayn are on their feet immediately, the two of them hugging him at once and congratulating him like he’s the one who just gave birth, before Harry lifts him up into his arms. Louis wraps his legs around his waist and clings to his neck, crying hysterically.

“I have a brother! I can’t believe it!” he repeats over and over again through his tears, laughing and sobbing at once. “We’ve got to… put me down, Haz!”

Once he’s back on the floor, Louis takes a few seconds to collect himself and wipe his eyes before he unlocks his phone and opens the camera, placing it on front of his face. He looks awful, eyes red and swollen, but he presses the record button nevertheless.

“Hi Mum,” he says, unable to reign in his grin. “Congrats! I’m so, so, so happy for you! I can’t wait to meet my new brother and sister! Now you get some rest and you let the girls do everything for you, hm? I want them to complain to me that you’ve turned them into your personal slaves. Nothing else will be satisfying. Oh my god, I can’t believe I have a brother!” He finishes in a squeal before turning the camera to Zayn and Harry. “Say hi, lads!”

“Congrats, Jay!” they both yell in unexpected unison, making the three of them laugh.

“Bye, Mum. Love you.”

Louis turns off the video and sends it to his sister, figuring his mother must have left her phone at home. After that, he collapses on the couch, a smile still plastered on his face.

“You have a brother,” Harry says after a moment, his smile audible in his voice. “And a new sister, let’s not forget about her. Are you okay, love? It’s okay if you’re sad, too, you’re allowed. You should be with them, it’s unfair that you’re not.”

“I’m too happy to be upset, right now, Haz,” Louis lets out through a smile, running his hands down his face. “I know I should be upset that I missed it, but I’m just so happy.” He’s shaking from nerves or happiness, he isn’t sure; all he knows is that he can feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, making him restless, the wine only enhancing his emotions. “We need to do something, I don’t care what, I just can’t…” He gets up again, almost jumping on the spot. “I’ve got too much energy, I need to do something or else I’ll crash and cry for a week.”

Louis can feel his sadness and heartbreak just under the surface, threatening to crack through his happiness and drain his mood until he’s back to where he was in the middle of the night, sobbing into a pillow while Harry strokes his back to try and soothe him. He doesn’t want to go there. Who needs a family when you’ve got good friends, right? Right.

He looks over at Harry who gives him a suggestive smirk and a nod towards their room, but before Louis can nod in reply, Zayn lets out a loud groan.

“I’m here, in case you forgot.”

“We could go out,” Harry offers. “Go clubbing or something.”

Zayn bursts out laughing. “Good job getting Louis into a night club. He never wants to.”

“Let’s do that,” Louis replies without missing a beat just to spite Zayn. He isn’t really into the idea, but he can be if it proves Zayn wrong. “I need to get wasted tonight.”

“Wicked,” Harry says, taking out his phone. “I’ll ask Niall if he wants to join us. I don’t know if he’ll be down for a gay club, though.”

“I hope he is,” Louis says, grinning to see Zayn shift uncomfortably.

Several hours and two beers’ worth of pre-gaming later, Louis is squeezed into his tightest red trousers and hanging onto Harry’s arm as they enter the night club, Zayn and Niall trailing behind them. The music is too loud for Louis’ liking and the flashing lights make him feel overwhelmed, but so long as he stays close to Harry, he thinks he might enjoy it. Maybe.

“C’mon, I got us a booth,” Niall says, leading them to the back of the club and sitting at a booth that says ‘Reserved’. “A bloke I used to work with is here, now, he saved us the best one. First round’s on him, too, for Lou’s big day.”

Grinning, Louis slips in after Harry and takes a moment to have a proper look around the place. It looks, well, it looks like a night club, with the usual high platform for the DJ and a crowded dance floor flanked on each side by a bar that sells overpriced drinks. Harry passes his arm around Louis’ shoulders and Louis leans into his side, smiling up at him. Harry nudges him and points at Zayn and Niall.

On the other side of the table, the two of them are already deep in conversation. Niall laughs at something Zayn says, throwing his head back and cackling loudly, and the way Zayn looks at Louis tells him everything he needs to know about Zayn’s feeling.

“I’ll bet you a week of dishes that Zayn’s coming home with us tonight,” Harry says in Louis’ ear, talking close enough for Louis to feel his lips brush his skin.

“That’s not fair! It’s already a given, you can’t bet on something that’s certain!”

Harry rolls his eyes and kisses Louis’ temple. “Fine, your loss.”

“Besides,” Louis continues, looking over to see Zayn touch Niall’s arm lightly as he talks to him, “I want them together.”

“They’d be cute, hm? I’ve been thinking the same.”

“You’d have someone to take the bus with when you’ll come visit me in Oxford,” Louis says before he remembers that his future is uncertain and depends on a life-changing decision. “Or, hum, well… You know, if I agree to the terms.”

“We’re not having this conversation right now.” Harry leans down and presses a quick kiss to Louis’ lips. “Tonight is about you having fun and relaxing a bit. You deserve a fun night out. And Zayn’s paying, isn’t he?” Harry finishes louder to get Zayn’s attention.

“What was that?” Zayn asks, frowning. “What did I do?”

“You’re paying for Louis’ drinks, right?”

Zayn frowns. “Am I?”

“Please,” Louis says, pouting in a way he hopes looks pitiful. “I’m poor, now.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Zayn rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine, but only Louis. Everyone else can piss off.”

Louis cheers and waves the waitress over.

Four drinks later, Louis is vaguely aware that he’s dancing in between two strangers and he’s, like, 80% sure that he’s grinding his bum against the crotch of one of them. He lost Harry and his shirt a while ago, although he can’t exactly tell when or how. He’d want to count in terms of songs, but the songs all blend into one and if he doesn’t keep his eyes on the chest of the man standing in front of him with his hands on Louis’ shoulders, he’ll probably get dizzy from the lights. Everything seems to be moving too fast, his own body feels too slow, like he’s underwater, and people keep touching him, pressing up against him, sweaty skins sticking together, and it’s too hot, too crowded, but he keeps on dancing, unaware of how he’s moving and just keeping his eyes closed and letting everything wash over him. He doesn’t stop to question it, doesn’t even pay attention to it, he just lets it all roll off of him like water under a bridge. Or is it off a duck’s back? Something about water and the futility of life.

There are lips on his skin and hands everywhere, and he throws his head back only to have it rest on someone’s shoulder, that someone bringing him closer with hands on his hips, and he willingly steps back and presses up against the man, but he’s too tall and too broad, it’s not Harry, it doesn’t feel right, and yet Louis stays because when he dances he can’t think and it’s a nice break, a well-deserved respite from his day, and he doesn’t care about much of anything except that. Oh, and he’s thirsty. He’s so thirsty, he needs to go to the bar and he might have said it out loud because the hands loosen and he’s free to go, weaving through the crowd and stumbling his way to the edge of the dance floor.

Then, he’s sitting on the bar and sipping on a drink he ordered for himself, still conscious enough to put it on Zayn’s tab, with a tall Spanish man whispering dirty things in his ear, and all Louis can do is giggle because he can’t remember how he got on that bar or who the man is, but he’s stroking Louis’ bare side and it tickles, and when he talks his accent is thick and all those s’s tickle his ear. Louis blinks and then Harry is there and the man is gone, and Harry looks upset, so Louis frowns and pouts.

“Harry!” he shouts, dragging and slurring the last syllable, his accent thicker than ever. “I lost you but now you’re here!”

“I went to get your drink and when I came back you were gone,” Harry says, crowding into Louis’ space by coming to stand in between his legs. He puts his hands on Louis’ waist and Louis grins, wrapping his legs around Harry’s hips.

“You disappeared! Poof! No Harry!” Louis giggles and takes a long sip of his drink through the straw. “This is really good!” He adds, pointing at his drink. “Want to taste?” He moves the glass closer to Harry, sloshing the contents dangerously close to the rim.

“No, I’m good. Who bought it for you?”

Harry is frowning and that’s no good, so Louis decides to pat his face to calm him. He miscalculates the distance and almost slaps Harry, stopping the movement at the last second and successfully stroking his cheek. He’d high-five himself if he could.

“Myself. Put it on Zayn. No roofies!” Louis finishes his drink, sucking on the straw until the last drop and giggling at the noise it makes. He places the glass on the bar loudly and grins at Harry. “Another!”

“I really don’t think you should.”

Louis clicks his tongue and shakes his head, taking Harry by the shoulders. “It’s very important to me that yes.” He frowns. “That you say yes. Forgot a few words, didn’t I?” He giggles again.

“And it’s very important to me that no. Why don’t you take a break and come sit with us, hm? Maybe put your shirt back on?”

Looking down at himself, Louis shrugs. “I’ve got glitter on,” he says, because he does. He doesn’t remember how he got it except through flashes of a boy about his age running his hands over Louis’ naked skin while talking about pixie dust. “Besides,” he continues, running his hand down the front of Harry’s chest, “your shirt is see-through.” 

Harry strokes Louis’ forehead, playing with his sweaty fringe, and Louis leans into the touch, closing his eyes and smiling. “You’re so bloody drunk.”

“Ye—Oh, look!” Louis says loudly, taking Harry’s face between his hands to turn his head so he’ll see someone Louis remembers from earlier. “He said I was the sexiest twink he’s ever seen and that he’d love to pound my tight little arse!” Louis giggles, just like he had when the man had told him that before slapping his bum. “Nick was right!”

Instead of laughing, Harry clenches his jaw and moves closer to Louis. Louis leans into Harry’s heat, resting his forehead against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I left you alone around these sleazy men, baby.”

“S’okay. Buy me a drink and we’re good.” Louis looks up through his eyelashes, fluttering them slowly. It makes the room spin, so he stops.

“No, love, you’ve had enough. You don’t want to be sick, do you?”

Louis shakes his head, but stops abruptly when it makes him feel dizzy. “Then dance with me.”

Harry nods, smiling. “That, I can do.”

With a loud cheer, Louis pulls Harry closer with his legs and throws his arms around his neck as he leans in to kiss him, sloppy and wet. Harry laughs against his lips and returns the kiss the best he can, and when Louis licks into his mouth, he can taste the fruity drinks Harry’s been drinking. It’s reassuring to know Harry isn’t as sober as he appears to be. Harry steps forward, forcing Louis to dip back, Harry’s wide hand between his shoulder blades holding him up as he deepens the kiss, making Louis whine through his nose.

Just when the kiss is beginning to be interesting, Harry pulls out, pressing one last kiss to Louis’ nose before lifting him off the bar and putting him down on the sticky floor. He takes Louis by the hand and leads him out to the dance floor, placing himself in front of him and putting his hands on Louis’ hips as he starts swaying to the music.

Shaking his head, Louis bites his lip. This won’t do. His hands over Harry’s to secure them in place, Louis turns on himself so that his back is to Harry’s chest. Without being asked, Harry slips his hands from Louis’ hips to rest them low on his belly, the tip of his fingers grazing the waistband of Louis’ trousers. Satisfied, Louis closes his eyes and leans into Harry as he begins languidly moving against him, rolling his hips back so that his bum rubs against his crotch. He’s rewarded with a gasp and a nip of teeth on his earlobe, which only makes him grin and continue until he can feel his trousers become uncomfortably tight.

Resting his head on Harry’s shoulder, Louis presses a kiss to his jaw. “When we get home,” Louis begins, biting his lip to stifle a moan when he feels that Harry is hard, “I want you to fuck me,” he lets out in a breath.

It’s Harry’s turn to moan. He presses a bruising kiss to Louis’ lips before he speaks. “Do you mean that?”

Louis curves his spine to grind his bum along the length of Harry’s cock. “I do. I really, really do.”

“You’re drunk.”

“So are you.”

“Not the point. I’m not fucking you when you’re drunk.”

“But you want to? Because I want you to,” Louis says, speaking what’s been on his mind for a while, now. 

He did not have the courage before, but now it seems almost ridiculous to have kept it quiet. He’s been wanting to theoretically since he first laid eyes on Harry, but ever since he moved in with Harry—no, even before that; ever since they started having sex, Louis has wanted Harry to make love to him. Wanting and asking is two different things, though, but with his veins currently filled with more alcohol than blood, he can’t remember why he was so afraid to ask.

Harry hums and bites Louis’ collarbone, pushing his hips forwards as he keeps Louis’ close with two firm hands on his lower stomach. It’s the only answer Louis needs and he grinds his arse over Harry’s cock slowly, covering Harry’s hands with his own. He keeps his movements slow, excruciatingly so, and before long he can hear Harry panting in his ear, his grip on Louis’ hips vice-like.

“What’re you doing?” Harry slurs, mouthing along Louis’ jaw, rubbing his nose behind his ear.

“M’trying to make you come,” Louis replies. He giggles when Harry tightens his hands even more. He’ll have bruises in the morning, that’s for sure, and that only turns the roll of his hips dirtier.

Harry’s answer is a muffled moan and a bite to the crook of Louis’ neck, making him throw his head back against Harry’s shoulder, his hand coming up to tangle in his curls. Harry moves his hands up and down Louis’ bare chest, skin slipping over sweat-slick skin, his fingers tweaking at Louis’ nipples until he lets out a high, choked noise. Arching his back to push out his bum even more, Louis attaches his lips to the tender skin under Harry’s jaw, licking and biting and kissing it until Harry flinches away with a hiss and presses up even more against Louis, his arms wrapping around his chest to keep him in place.

Harry’s breathing has turned frantic, scalding puffs of air exhaled against the skin of Louis’ neck, and he’s clinging to him, nails clawing for purchase, and Louis keeps going, he keeps rolling and pushing his bum against Harry’s hard cock, ignoring the tightness in his own jeans to focus on what he’s doing. He’s vaguely aware of people watching them and he gets a kick out of it, bites his lip, runs a hand up his chest for show.

“Louis, fuck…” Harry breathes out, pushing his hips against Louis’ bum and Louis grinds against him even harder, feeling his cock twitch before Harry lets out a deep groan and sinks his nails in Louis’ hips, holding him in place while he stutters against Louis.

Wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist, Harry presses wet, open-mouthed kisses to his shoulders and the back of his neck. Louis smiles and bows his head, hissing whenever Harry scrapes his teeth against his overheated skin.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Harry says, pulling Louis’ head back with a hand on his forehead to kiss him. “You’re crazy.”

“Did you come, then?” Louis asks, smiling even as Harry kisses him again.

Harry chuckles. “I did. Happy?”

“Very.”

“Let’s go sit down, I need a moment.”

Giggling as Harry drags him along, Louis unsteadily makes his way to their table, crawling on all fours on the seat instead of scooting along its length, collapsing on it once he’s on, his feet dangling off the end. He is so, so tired all of a sudden.

“I sleep, now,” he mumbles against the leatherette of the seat, ignoring the way Harry is nudging his legs to try and sit.

“Not like that, come on,” Harry says and he keeps nudging Louis, which is annoying, so Louis sits up slowly, bracing himself against the table when the club starts spinning around him.

“Hey!” Louis slurs once he’s sat, “look! They’re snogging!” He points at Niall and Zayn, out on the dance floor and wrapped up in each other. Niall has his arms loosely hooked around Zayn’s shoulders and Zayn’s hands are on his hips, and they’re swaying in time to the music, not an inch of space between their bodies. Louis giggles as he watches them, the laughter bubbling out of him against his control.

“They are, yeah,” Harry says with a laugh. “Come here.”

He opens his arms and Louis snuggles up into them, resting his head against Harry’s chest and wrapping his arms around his waist. He closes his eyes and smiles, pressing his nose into Harry’s scent.

\---

The next time he opens his eyes, it feels like his brain has expanded and is threatening to break out of his skull, pressing against it painfully. He lets out a groan, his throat painful, and closes his eyes again. He tries to move, but his entire body feels parched, like he’s been left in the sun for too long to dry. He feels like sundried tomatoes. That can’t be good.

Sunlight is filtering through the curtains and the greenness of the room is almost insulting to Louis’ headache, but rolling to hide his face in his pillow sounds like a chore he can’t achieve. His mouth is pasty and dry, feeling like a sandpit. He rubs his eyes and groans again, the movement sending sparks of pain in his head. He turns his head, trying to see if Harry is there, but his side of the bed is empty. Rolling on his side, Louis notices a glass of water. He reaches for it and takes a long sip. Seconds later, his heart lurches up his throat as a wave of nausea crashes over him.

Rolling out of bed quickly and ignoring the way it feels like his skull is about to split, Louis barely makes it in time in the bathroom before he retches in the toilet, clinging to the porcelain as his body shakes violently. Slumping on the floor once he’s done, Louis lies down on the cold tiles and whines, pressing his clammy cheek against the floor. He enjoys the cold until he starts shivering and he’s seriously considering rolling himself up in the bathmat when the door opens. With tremendous efforts, Louis opens his eyes to see a wrecked Zayn, his hair a mess, with dark circles under his eyes.

“Zayn?” he asks in a small voice, pushing himself up on his elbow the best he can. “You slept here?”

“What the fuck are you doing on the bathroom floor?” Zayn asks much, much too loudly.

“Not so loud,” Louis rasps, sitting up against the bathtub. “I think I’m dead.”

“You’re lucky to be alive with what you drank last night. You were passed out cold, we had to carry you to Harry’s bed. Fuck you for that, we’re on the fourth floor, for fuck’s sake.”

Louis whines. “Stop yelling.”

“I’m not yelling,” Zayn says in a softer voice. “Did you take anything? You need to try to drink water.”

“I threw it up,” Louis says in a whimper, curling up on himself. He’s shivering and he reeks, smelling sour from the previous night’s sweat, and there’s still glitter on his chest, pitifully clinging to his skin and looking ridiculous in the overly bright light of the bathroom.

“Okay, okay, let’s put you back to bed. Harry went out to get you stuff that’ll make you feel better, he’ll be back soon,” Zayn says comfortingly.

He helps Louis to his feet and holds most of his weight while he brings him back to bed, tucking him in once he’s curled up on his side. He leaves the room for a moment before coming back with an empty bin that he places near Louis’ head.

“The best is to sleep it off, if you can.”

Louis nods and closes his eyes, pulling the covers tighter around him. “Did you shag Niall?” Louis mumbles, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Zayn chuckles. “Yes, I didn’t sleep in this shithole for fun. Go to sleep, Lou,” he says.

Listening to his footsteps receding, Louis lets out a shaky sigh. This is, hands down, the worst hangover he’s ever had to live through and he’s only been awake for ten minutes.

The rest of the day isn’t better. He spends it in bed, moaning and whining because it feels like his body is trying to self-destruct. He’s always too hot or too cold, like he’s feverish, and it’s not before the middle of the afternoon that he can hold anything down. Harry patiently sits by him on the floor and spoon-feeds him chicken broth, the bouquet of flowers he brought home – “they’re a wish for health!” – next to him on the bed. By the time dinner comes, Louis feels good enough to join Niall and Harry in the living room after a well-needed shower and he has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t comment on the fact that Zayn is still there. Louis gives him encouraging thumbs up when no one else is looking and he isn’t sure, but he thinks he sees Zayn blushing.

The evening is spent watching movies curled up with Harry on the couch, a blanket wrapped around him against how cold he still feels. In between dozing off and trying to keep up with the plot of the movie, Louis notices that Zayn has his legs in Niall’s lap. The sight makes Louis smile and his heart swell up.

With the movie over, Harry offers that they go to bed early, to which Louis agrees immediately. He could probably sleep for a week, he’s so exhausted. Dragging his feet down the hallway, Louis glances over his shoulder and smiles to see that Zayn and Niall have moved closer together now that they’re being left alone. Louis nudges Harry, who grins and nods. They quickly get out of the way to give the pair some intimacy.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks around his toothbrush after they’ve moved to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Louis nods and holds up his thumb, smiling briefly and rolling his eyes when foam leaks down his chin. He wipes it away with the back of his hand.

“Good,” Harry continues, finishing up and moving to wrap his arms around Louis’ waist from behind, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “I’m happy to hear it.”

Bending down to spit is awkward with Harry draped over his back, but Louis manages and rinses his mouth quickly before turning around in Harry’s arm and craning his neck to peck his lips. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to domesticity; his stomach still does backflips whenever they shower together or shave next to each other, fighting for the mirror. 

It all happened so fast, after all. He went from single and a virgin to living with his boyfriend and almost completely not-a-virgin in the span of a summer, and it could be scary if it didn’t feel so right. Louis can’t quite explain exactly _how_ it feels right, or what makes him say that, but being with Harry is easy, it just fits. It’s like they’ve known each other for much longer, like his entire life he was destined to meet Harry and fall in love with him; a cliché thought, but one he quite likes. He never thought he’d be the kind of person to fall hopelessly in love, the kind whose life would start revolving around their boyfriend; he always considered himself to be independent, but he might have spent years confusing independence and loneliness. He doesn’t feel like his life is centred around Harry, just that Harry fits in it effortlessly. 

Louis smiles at Harry. “I’m not feeling completely fine, but I don’t feel like I’m dying, so there’s that.”

Harry smiles and kisses behind Louis’ ear. “Ready for bed, then? We both had a shit night, you kicked a lot.”

Untangling himself from Harry’s grip with a giggle, Louis leads the way to their room. “Did I?”

“I’d have left you to go sleep with Niall if he hadn’t been busy.” 

Louis smirks as he crosses their dark room to turn on the bedside lamp. “Speaking of, did you see them earlier? They’re dating, aren’t they?”

“I wouldn’t dare ask, I don’t want to scare them.”

“Fair enough,” Louis says as he begins stripping out of the pyjamas he’s worn all day, slipping naked under the covers. He waits until Harry has done the same to speak. “You know, in all of this, there’s just one thing that bothers me,” he continues, staring at the ceiling.

He glances at Harry and smiles to see him closing the book he had just picked up. Louis never suspected before he moved in that Harry was such a bookworm and this side of him makes him even more endearing, if that’s even possible.

“What is it?”

“Well,” Louis begins, scratching his cheek, thinking idly that he needs to shave the next morning, “Niall’s had sex before me.”

“I hope so, you were 10 when Niall shagged for the first time,” Harry says with a chuckle that turns into a yelp when Louis kicks his shin. “We’re having sex.”

“You know what I mean,” Louis says, clearing his throat. “He’s done…” Louis trails off, blushing.

“Anal?”

Louis kicks him again. “It sounds awful when you say it like that!” he whines.

“’ _Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself_ ’,” Harry quotes, earning himself another kick that makes him laugh loudly, his nose scrunching up and his eyes crinkling.

“I’m talking about making love and you’re quoting _Harry Potter_! Stop!” Louis complains, giggling through it.

It takes Harry a moment to stop laughing, but when he does, he rolls on his side and props himself up on one elbow to look at Louis, eyebrows furrowed. “You want to make love?”

Avoiding Harry’s eyes by resolutely keeping his on the ceiling, Louis nods. “Yeah. I’ve thought about it and… yeah. I want it.” He glances at Harry and their eyes meet.

It’s like time stands still for a moment and Louis stops breathing, the possibility of maybe-perhaps doing _that_ with Harry now hanging in the air between them. It’s over as quickly as it began when Harry shakes his head with a smile.

“Not tonight,” he says. “But soon, if you want to.”

“I do. I really, really do,” Louis replies, a bit breathless.

“Have you thought about how you want it? In terms of…” Harry winces, searching for the right words. “In terms of positions?”

“You in me.” Louis is kind of proud of how strong his voice came out; no waver or quiver. He’s turning into a real adult who can talk about sex with his boyfriend without blushing. That’s impressive.

Harry nods. “That’s what I imagined, too.” Rolling on his stomach, lying almost completely on top of Louis, he pushes back his fringe and kisses him softly. “I’ll make it perfect for you, baby, I promise.”

“I trust you,” Louis says, smiling. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Harry plants a kiss on his lips and settles comfortably over Louis for the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and last week's could have been just one, but I liked having 10 chapters, it felt right, so I cut in the middle. Only the epilogue left, now, just to wrap things up and give this a proper happy ending.

The next morning, Louis feels like a human once again. He wakes up before Harry and curls up into his side, pressing a kiss to his chest before resting his head there, just enjoying his warmth. Harry stirs and mumbles something inaudible before wrapping his arms around Louis, pulling him closer. Louis lets him, closing his eyes and letting out a small sigh.

He drifts in and out of sleep a couple of times, but he’s startled awake when the front door is slammed shut. Zayn must be gone, then, and maybe Niall as well. Louis smiles and lets himself imagine them going out on a date for breakfast, trading stories of their past and their plans for the future over scrambled eggs. It’s such a bizarre image that he chuckles. It makes Harry stir again and Louis soothes him down by petting his chest for a while before he starts tracing the swallows tattooed below Harry’s collarbones with the tip of his fingers.

It only takes a couple of minutes of this for Harry to wake up, his arms tightening even more around Louis.

“Morning,” he says, voice scratchy from sleep.

Louis returns the greeting and then presses a kiss to Harry’s chest before rubbing his nose against it. “Can we stay in bed all day?”

Harry lets out a small laugh. “But that’s what we did yesterday.”

“So?” Louis lifts his head to bat his eyelashes at Harry, putting on his most adorable face. “We don’t have anything else planned, do we? And I didn’t enjoy it yesterday, I was too sick.”

With a yawn, Harry shakes his head. “You’re the only one to blame for that.”

“I’d had a shit day,” Louis replies defensively. “It’s not like I get blackout drunk every day.”

“I know, I know,” Harry says, mollified. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I shouldn’t have commented.” He lets go of Louis to stretch his arms above his head and Louis leans up to press a kiss to the heart tattooed inside Harry’s arm, smiling when he chuckles. “You’re cuddly this morning. Usually you’re already out of bed and eating cereal on the couch at this hour, if you’re not still asleep.”

Louis shrugs, moving in closer, nuzzling into Harry’s neck. “You were warm and inviting.”

“As cute as this is, I need to wee,” Harry declares, thoroughly ruining the mood. “I’ll make pancakes, yeah?” he asks, gently pushing Louis off him to get out of bed.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Sitting up, Louis hugs his knees to his chest as he watches Harry cross the room, his eyes falling on Harry’s morning wood, his cock jutting out heavy and full. Louis bites his lip and says nothing, even if he feels his own cock twitch at the sight. With the conversation they’ve had the night before, his mind immediately jumps to the conclusion that it needs to happen _now_. He wants it, they’re seemingly home alone, and the day is already shaping up to be a lazy Sunday. The timing is right.

Once Harry is out of the room, Louis leans back against his pillow, picking up Harry’s and placing it under his head to sit up a bit. Once that’s done, he stretches out on the bed over the duvet and wraps a hand around his cock, stroking it lazily, but with intent. He needs to be at least half-hard before Harry comes back, he tells himself, closing his eyes and biting his lip once more as he conjures up images of what he hopes will happen in a couple of minutes. He’s already had this fantasy often enough to come up with it quickly and he huffs out a breath when heat flares up in his cock as it begins reacting to his motions.

“Fuck,” he hears Harry say in a breath and Louis opens his eyes to find him stuck in the doorway. “Lou?”

Louis tightens his hand around his cock and twists his wrist, drawing a moan from his lips. “Remember last night’s conversation…?”

Harry clears his throat as he begins crossing the room, his eyes not leaving Louis once. “You want to do that now?”

“We’re home alone, aren’t we? And I’m ready. Why wait?” His voice shakes slightly, betraying some of his apprehension. He wants it, there’s no doubt there, but he’s bloody nervous.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, next to Louis, and looks at him seriously. “Are you sure about this? We don’t have to rush into things, it’s all right if you’d rather wait.”

Louis shakes his head, his hand stilled on his cock. “I want it. I’m sure.”

With a nod, Harry leans down to kiss Louis, pressing his lips tenderly against his. “Yeah? Okay. I want it, too.”

Wrapping his free hand behind Harry’s neck, Louis pulls him closer and kisses him, his breath stuttering when he starts moving his hand again. Careful not to break the kiss, Harry climbs on the bed, straddling Louis’ thighs and sinking both hands into Louis’ hair, tugging until Louis pulls out of the kiss to gasp. Lowering himself over Louis, Harry holds his head in place and kisses him once more, deepening it as he begins rolling his hips down on Louis’. Louis lets out a soft moan into Harry’s mouth and clings to his back as he pushes his hips up to meet his movements, his feet planted in the mattress for leverage. 

“I’ll make it perfect for you, babe, I promise,” Harry says against Louis’ lips, pulling his bottom one with his teeth until Louis whines through his nose and digs his fingernails in his back. Harry hisses and lets go of Louis’ lips only to run the tip of his tongue along it as his hips continue to grind agonizingly slowly against Louis’.

“I trust you,” Louis says, voice already breathless from the way Harry has him pinned to the bed, restraining his movement to small pushes of his hips to meet Harry’s.

Harry waits until Louis is whimpering with every push before he does anything, breaking the heated kiss they’d been having to press his lips down the length of Louis’ neck, moving down to his chest as he crawls down Louis’ body. Just when Louis thinks Harry is going straight down to his cock and he begins bracing himself for it, Harry drags his teeth down Louis’ nipple before flicking his tongue over it, making Louis gasp.

“You like that?” Harry says before sucking hard on Louis’ nipple.

Louis’ toes curls as he digs his fingers into Harry’s hair, pulling on it in an attempt to get his mouth away, the sensation too much and so, so good, but _too much_ , his hips stuttering up in the air to seek friction, contact, _anything_.

“Y-yes,” Louis gasps out, fingernails scratching at Harry’s scalp.

Harry pulls off, lips glistening as he grins at Louis, before blowing cool air on Louis’ wet skin, making him shiver violently and whine as he twists on the bed to try and get away. Harry then kisses across his chest and Louis’ breath gets stuck in his lungs when Harry puts his mouth to his other nipple and stars anew, teasing it with his teeth and his tongue until Louis tugs hard on his hair.

“Too much,” he gasps out, eyes closed, breath laboured.

“Sorry, love.” 

Harry stretches to press an atoning, chaste kiss to Louis’ lips before resuming his trail of kisses and kitten licks down Louis’ chest. It turns into small bites once he gets to Louis’ stomach and Louis sucks it in by reflex. Harry doesn’t say anything, used to it by now, Louis supposes, and instead licks a broad strip up Louis’ cock before pressing a kiss to the tip and moving away.

Louis opens his eyes and pushes himself up on his elbows to see what Harry is doing, a protest on the tip of his tongue. He finds Harry knelt on his side of the bed and searching through the drawer of the sole bedside table. Louis rolls on his side and pinches Harry’s bum, smiling when he lets out a yelp of surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for lube,” Harry replies, and his words make Louis bite his lip. “I know I’ve got some, it’s just been a while.”

“How long?”

Lube in hand, Harry drops it on the bed and goes back to Louis, lying next to him and tangling their legs. He presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Since I met you.”

With a smile, Louis kisses Harry, pulling him on top of him by the shoulders and smoothing his hands down his back as they kiss, sighing through his nose when Harry settles on top of him once more. Running his hands down Harry’s back, Louis grips Harry’s bum to pull him even closer and try to make him start grinding down again, but Harry moves back, eventually breaking the kiss.

“I’ll start preparing you, okay?”

Louis’ heart, which had already been beating fast, quickens even more at Harry’s words, and he nods frantically. “I’ve never… to myself.”

Harry gives him a reassuring smile and pecks his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it slow. Just relax and let me do all the work.”

Louis nods again and settles back down on the pillows, getting comfortable and watching Harry with rapt attention as he begins slicking up his fingers, and it’s only in that moment that Louis realises how big they are. He’d always known that Harry had big hands with long, never-ending fingers, but now that they’re about to be buried inside his arse, it’s like he’s noticing for the first time just how impressive they are. He gulps and wraps his hand around his cock loosely, stroking it to try and relax.

Harry wipes his hand on the duvet and then pats Louis’ thigh to make him spread his legs, kneeling between them. He runs a hand down the inside of Louis’ thigh and kisses his knee before pushing it back. Louis understands at once and brings his legs up, bracketing Harry’s waist with them. Harry bends forward to kiss Louis, which Louis returns enthusiastically. Just when Louis is relaxing into it, his hand tightening around his cock and stroking with more purpose, Harry runs a slick finger along Louis’ taint, making him moan in surprise. 

Smiling against Louis’ lips, Harry moves his finger lower, dragging it over Louis’ hole slowly, almost teasingly. Louis’ lips stutter and a gasp leaves his lips. It feels weird to be touched in such an intimate place, but it’s not a bad weird. It’s a strange weird, a surprisingly enjoyable weird. Harry keeps kissing him as his finger moves back and forth in slowly, teasing motions that leave Louis breathless.

Just as slowly as he got there, Harry pushes the tip of his index against the tight ring of muscles, letting Louis’ body take him in without force. Louis moans again and shifts his hips, trying to get used to the feeling. Harry keeps his finger motionless to help him for a moment, waiting until he sees Louis settle back against the mattress before pushing his finger in a bit more, stopping when only the tip is in. Louis hisses and shuts his eyes, biting his lip.

“Is it too dry? Do you want more lube?” Harry asks, his voice laced with concern.

Shaking his head, Louis sighs through his nose. “No, no, it’s… I just need a second.”

“We have all day,” Harry replies, pressing a kiss to Louis’ knee.

After a few mores seconds and a nod from Louis, Harry pushes his finger in more, keeping the slide slow, and Louis inhales loudly until Harry stops, his knuckle pressed against the rim. The two of them stop breathing for a moment, and then Harry pulls his finger out before pushing in again, and Louis exhales in a loud moan, the feeling exhilaratingly new and _fucking amazing_. The slide is easier each time Harry does it, and before long Louis is moving his hips to meet his finger, grinding down on it. Louis has stopped stroking his cock, his hand resting idly on it, but he feels like he might come from Harry’s finger alone if he keeps this up and there’s only one in, Louis can’t even imagine what it’ll be like when it’s his cock. He moans just to think of it.

“Do you think you could take two?” Harry asks and he laughs when Louis nods frantically in answer. “Yeah?”

“Yes, shit, do it!” Louis snaps, breathless, giving his cock a few tugs in hopes it might release some of his pent-up lust. It only succeeds in making it worse and he whines, the sound turning high-pitched when he feels a second finger pressing alongside the one rubbing circles around his rim.

Slowly, Harry pushes them in. The stretch is uncomfortable, at first, but Louis tries to relax into it, rolling his hips in small motions to try and ease them in. Once Harry’s in to the knuckles, he moves them in small circles, stretching Louis even more and making him moan brokenly, his head rolling back against the pillow. He grips the sheets and pulls them, thinking that it can’t get better than this.

That is, until Harry slowly drags his fingers in and they press up against a spot that makes Louis jolt and moan loudly, his hand tightening around his cock, tugging it desperately. Harry only laughs, moving up to kiss Louis. Louis traps Harry’s lip between his teeth and pulls on it until Harry hisses and pulls his fingers almost completely out before slamming them back in, making Louis moan and let go of his lip. Pushing on Louis’ thigh to move it higher, nearly folding Louis in half, Harry quickens his hand, the change of angle allowing him to go deeper.

An unbroken string of moans is slipping out of Louis’ mouth without him noticing and his knuckles are turning white from gripping the sheets, and he’s tugging on his cock desperately, feeling his orgasm build up at the bottom of his spine. With every push of his fingers, Harry hits Louis’ prostate, each time sending sparks through his body.

“Harry, I’m close…” Louis whines, rolling his hips to meet Harry’s movements, clenching around them to get more, needing to feel fuller still. “More, please, I need more,” he nearly begs, only to moan when Harry adds a third finger, pushing it in alongside the other two without warning and keeping the same rhythm without faltering or giving Louis time to adjust, and it’s too much, but it’s so good that he cries out, “yes, yes, yes!”

Louis comes without warning, splashing over his stomach and his hand, his hips pushing down on Harry’s fingers, riding them through his orgasm. With a long, deep sigh, Louis flutters his eyes open to look at Harry. He has stilled his fingers and is seemingly waiting for a sign that Louis is alive. It makes Louis smile to see how attentive Harry is being. Clenching around Harry’s fingers, feeling full and almost overstimulated, Louis rolls his hips tentatively, gasping at the sensation.

“I can stop if you prefer,” Harry says, stroking his hand up Louis’ belly, running it through Louis’ come and smearing it.

Louis shakes his head. “No. Keep going. I want you in me.”

“Do you think you could come again?”

Louis shrugs, giving Harry a smile that quickly dies when he begins pushing his fingers in and out of Louis’ hole once more, keeping the rhythm excruciatingly slow. Louis’ breath turns deeper, louder, and his eyes flutter shut as his head rolls back on the pillow. He lets out small whimpers, almost like meows, whenever Harry brushes against his prostate, and before long Louis is once more clenching around him, wanting, needing more.

“Harry, please, enough with this, I’m ready,” Louis says in a breath, not even opening his eyes.

Pulling out his fingers immediately, drawing a deep, shuddering breath out of Louis, Harry moves up the bed to press a series of quick, playful kisses on his lips. Louis wraps his arms and legs around Harry, clinging to him to keep him in place, kissing back with more fervour even has Harry shifts against him. He hears the bottle of lube uncap and it only makes him kiss Harry with more intent, licking into his mouth and drawing a low, pleased moan from Harry’s throat.

Louis’ entire body shudders when he feels the tip of Harry’s cock press up against his hole, just resting there without pushing in any further. He whines and tightens his arms around Harry’s back, pulling out of the kiss with a gasp.

“Do it, do it, do it, do it,” he repeats in between small kisses over Harry’s lips, fingernails scratching at Harry’s back demandingly.

Harry laughs and nods, his nose rubbing against Louis’ cheek as he does so, and he moves his hips forward, making the tip of his cock nudge Louis’ hole, making him twitch. Reaching between their bodies, Harry aligns himself and then begins pushing in, just enough for the head to be in.

It’s all it takes for Louis to let out a high-pitched moan, clawing at Harry’s back, his fingers slipping on Harry’s sweat-slick skin, as he tries to breathe through the stretch. After a couple of seconds of counting his breaths – sixteen, he must be close to hyperventilating – Louis shifts his hips up, letting more of Harry slip inside of him. Harry nods with a gasp and he pushes in slowly, only stopping when he bottoms out. 

“Okay?” Harry asks, pecking Louis’ nose.

With a nod, Louis tries to smile, only for his face to contort with pleasure when Harry moves his hips minutely. “Yes, yes, good,” he finally says, tightening his legs around Harry’s hips.

Slowly, Harry begins building up a rhythm, kissing Louis through it. Louis kisses back as best he can for a moment before he throws his head back, letting out a string of soft ‘ah’ sounds with every thrust of Harry’s hips while Harry mutters praise to Louis in between grunts.

“Shit, baby, you’re so tight, hm, you take it so well, you’re such a good boy,” he lets out, voice rough and lower than Louis has ever heard it.

The sound of it paired with the feeling of Harry’s cock pushing in and out of him is enough to get Louis hard again, turning him into a whimpering mess. Louis’ legs fall open and Harry leans back to grab them and hoist them up against Louis’ chest, using them as leverage to intensify his movements, thrusting harder.

Louis opens his mouth to talk, wanting to ask for Harry to go faster, but the only sounds that come out are moans. He grips the sheets in his hands, pushing his hips to meet with Harry’s movements. He’s never felt anything like this before, like his entire world has been reduced to Harry and how he fills him up, how it’s almost too much, his body never quite getting used to the intrusion.

“Harry, I…” he pants, forcing his eyes opened to look at Harry, at his face framed by Louis’ legs. The sight makes him keen and his cock twitches against his belly. “I want cake.”

Harry slows down, his brows furrowing for a second before he understands and bursts out laughing, his rhythm becoming irregular. “I want cake, too.”

Louis laughs, too, his body shaking with it, and he lifts his arms, trying to get a hold of Harry. “Kiss me!”

Bending forward, effectively folding Louis in two, Harry presses a long, heated kiss to Louis’ lips. The new angle makes Harry’s next thrust hit just the right spot and Louis cries out, throwing his head back and arching his spine.

“There, right there, Harry, please,” he pleads, voice high and breathy.

Keeping him folded, Harry grips Louis’ ankles and begins fucking him in earnest, the sound of their sweaty skins slapping together filling the gaps between their moans. Louis grips the sheets once more, only to let go after a moment to wrap a hand around his cock, holding it tightly and jerking it with quick, desperate motions. Above him, Harry is more of a mess than ever, with sweat rolling down his face and his hair matted and sticking to his skin. His face is contorted, his eyes screwed shut, and grunts leave his lips with every other thrust, sounding like the air is getting punched out of him every time.

Louis doesn’t want it to end, but he can feel his orgasm building up, making him roll his hips up to meet with Harry’s thrusts, making the two of them moan loudly when it only works to push Harry deeper inside of him. Harry bends forwards once more and kisses Louis messily, rolling his hips in figure-eight movements, pushing in as deep as he can go before he stills and comes with a groan, his hips stuttering against Louis’ and his kissing becoming nothing but their lips pressed together, Louis swallowing every noise Harry lets out as he shakes over him.

Feeling Harry’s cock twitch inside of him sends Louis over the edge and he comes for the second time with a cry, arching his back off the mattress and clenching around Harry and making him moan faintly. Louis is pretty sure he sees stars this time, and when he finally comes down and relaxes against the pillows he starts giggling tiredly. Harry settles down on him, his cock still inside Louis’ arse, and Louis shifts his hips, still enjoying the feeling despite the soreness slowly setting in.

“Wow,” Louis says, unable to remember how to form a sentence. He feels elated and weightless, like his body is made of air and he would just float up were it not for Harry’s weight on top of him.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, gently pushing back Louis’ fringe. “It was a good first time?”

Nodding, Louis gives Harry a large, wrecked smile. “It was perfect. When can we do it again?”

Harry laughs and pecks Louis’ nose before slowly pulling out, making the two of them hiss. Kissing Louis again, nibbling at his swollen lip until he whines and pushes him away, Harry lies down next to him, resting his head on his arm. Louis rolls over to face him, reaching forward to trace Harry’s feature with the tip of his fingers.

“You’re gorgeous,” Harry says in a soft voice. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Louis smiles, wriggling on the bed as he feels something warm start leaking down the inside of his thighs. Realising what it is, he blushes. “I should get cleaned up.”

Harry shakes his head, pulling Louis against him. “You should stay here with me. We’ll shower later, I’m gross, too. But I want a nap, before.”  
“We literally just woke up.”

“Nap,” Harry repeats, drawling the syllable until Louis laughs.

“Okay, okay, fine. But then you have to make me pancakes.”

“Deal.”

Getting comfortable against Harry, Louis sighs, smiling to himself. His bum is sore and he feels sticky and disgusting, he probably stinks and his hair must be a mess, but he can’t find it in himself to care, not when the man who is quite possible the love of his life is drifting to sleep while holding him tightly after they’ve had what has to be the best sex in the history of sexual intercourse.

\---

The leaves are changing colour and a cold wind is seeping in through the cracks around the windows, turning their flat into a fridge. Louis has adopted the habit of walking around with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as they try and push as far as possible the date on which they’ll turn on the heating, knowing they’ll see their power bill skyrocket. The days are dull and grey, the sky overcast and if last year Louis loved October because October meant finally moving into his own apartment, going away from his stepfather and gaining independence, now it only serves as a reminder that he’s managed to fuck up his life with one careless gossip.

Zayn has already left for Oxford a couple of days earlier and Niall has turned into a moping mess even bigger than the one Louis is. He spends his days glued to his mobile, texting almost constantly and looking crestfallen when a reply takes a while to come. Louis feels guilty that the sight Harry comes home to every night is that of his boyfriend and best friend sulking on the couch in front of bad reality television, but he also can’t seem to get a grip on his life.

He knows that logic would want him to get a job and start bringing in money, especially since with autumn rolling in, Harry is only working three days a week until it completely stops in November. When that happens, they’ll be relying almost entirely on Niall’s salary to pay for the flat, with the help Louis’ mother provides by sending them groceries money whenever she can. Louis knows it’s unfair that he’s not helping, but the prospect of getting a job is, quite frankly, terrifying. It’s too definitive; it would be accepting his faith and making a cross on the possibility that he might go back to school. His stepfather’s offer is still on, his mother texted him a few days earlier along with pictures of the twins, as long as he accepts the transfer to law school. 

“Do you think I’d make a good lawyer?” he asks Harry one night as he helps him cook dinner.

Harry looks up from the onions he’s chopping, frowning pensively. “I don’t know, to be honest. We don’t argue, so I can’t tell if you’re good at it.”

“There’s more to being a lawyer than arguing, though,” Louis replies, popping a piece of carrot in his mouth and giving Harry an innocent smile when he catches him doing it.

“Are we having the conversation about your stepfather’s offer?” When Louis nods, Harry mirrors him. “Can I be honest?”

“Yeah, of course,” Louis says, feeling his stomach tighten.

“I hate to tell you this because I want you to be as happy as you can be, but I’ll say it anyway: you should accept. I would, if I were you.”

“You hate school, though. That’s why you didn’t go to uni. You can’t tell me to go waste years of my life doing something I hate when you don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Louis replies defensively, biting his lip as soon as he stops talking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go off at you. You’re right, I should accept.”

“Don’t do it for me, if you do. Don’t do it because you think I want you to get a job that pays well or whatever, okay? Because we don’t know if we’ll still be together once you get your degree.”

Louis frowns. “I want to still be with you. Don’t talk shit, Harold.”

Harry lets out a small laugh. “But we don’t know for sure. We might get into a massive fight and fall out of love. It happens. I don’t want it to, but it might happen. And if it does, I want you to be happy with your life and not regret your choices because you made them for me.”

Hopping to sit on the counter, Louis stays quiet for a moment, the same litany as always running through his mind. If he accepts the offer, it means he gets back his family’s financial support and, perhaps in time, the right to visit them. He gets an education, a damn good one at that, and a degree that will guarantee him a secure, well-paid job in the future. He will get to see his siblings grow up, he’ll get to be a part of their life, and he’ll get to build a life of his own.

On the other hand, if he accepts, it means years of university studying something he has no interest in only to get a job in a field he does not like. He might spend the rest of his life miserable, slowly turning into a bitter, Scrooge-like man with a shrivelled, blackened heart.

But if he refuses, he’s facing a future even bleaker. Their financial situation won’t get much better, even when he’ll get a job, a shit one in a shop, the only kind you can get without a university degree, he supposes. It will eventually put a strain on their lives, especially if they want children, and then in time, he will lose Harry. The fact that they only ever fight when money is the subject should be a good enough foreshadowing of what’s to come if he refuses the offer and ruins his life even more. 

He really does miss his family. Knowing that Harry got to meet the new twins before he did – his sisters sent him pictures of that day, with Harry holding the infants and grinning down at them – made Louis miserable for days afterwards. That feeling alone, this sinking, gut-wrenching hollowness, might be enough to convince him to agree. He wants them back, wants to be able to visit whenever he wants. He wants to be welcome there once more.

“I’ll accept it,” Louis finally says, digging his mobile out of his pocket. “I’ll go to law school.”

“Not for me, hm?” Harry asks, cautious.

“For me. I want my family back,” Louis says, rapidly typing a message to his mother before he changes his mind. “You better be there every step of the way and bake me loads of cakes and cuddle me lots because I’ll need it, okay? I won’t enjoy it and I might turn into Ebenezer Scrooge and you’re not allowed to complain if I do.”

Wiping his hands on a towel, Harry walks closer, crowding into Louis’ space to hug him to his chest. With slow, soothing strokes on his back, he nods. “I’ll be there for as long as you’ll want me to be. We’re a team.”

Louis rests his head against Harry’s chest, idly listening to his heartbeat and trying to convince himself he did well. Already, he’s second-guessing himself, wondering if he made the right decision for the right reasons. On the counter, his mobile buzzes and Louis picks it up, his heart swelling when he sees the string of emojis his mother sent him. Harry glances at the screen and laughs, the sound of it rattling in his chest.

“I should start packing, I suppose. I’ve got to move into my flat before the semester starts and all,” Louis says after a moment, untangling himself from the comfort of Harry’s arms. “Zayn will be happy to know he won’t have to find another flatmate.”

“It’ll be easier for Niall and I to come over and visit you, yeah. Only one address to remember.”

Louis’ heart sinks when he realises he’ll have to leave Harry in London. He frowns, taking Harry’s face between his hands. “I’ll pay for your bus tickets so you can visit me every weekend, yeah? Every single weekend, Styles, understood?”

“Understood. I’ll miss you too much to skip one, anyway.”

Pulling Harry into a kiss, Louis wraps his arms around his neck and holds on to him for a moment, trying to commit the scene to memory. The heady smell of the chicken broth simmering on the stove and of the onions abandoned on the counter, the chill filling the flat and the scratchiness of the sweater Louis has to wear to fight it, the sound of Niall watching telly in the living room, a laugh track going off from time to time. And Harry, it always comes back to Harry, his arms around his waist and his lips against Louis’, his smell, like the cold outside and freshly turned dirt, like dead leaves and rain; his warmth, radiating through him and thawing the darkest corners of Louis’ heart, making him feel like everything will be alright as long as Harry holds him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap, folks. I hope you liked it as much as I liked playing in this universe!
> 
> (I can tell you exactly where we were when we came up with the idea for the epilogue: walking down the Royal Mile towards Holyroodhouse, in Edinburgh. Planning Christmas stuff in July because why not, eh?)

“This is such a bad idea,” Louis comments from where he’s perched on the counter, supervising the eggnog preparation. “Someone is going to get hurt.”

“Emotionally or physically?” Harry asks, glancing over his shoulder as he stirs the content of the pot.

In the living room, Niall, Zayn and Liam – Louis has all of his classes with Country Club Liam now that he’s a law student, so he’s been upgraded to just Liam – are decorating the tree. Liam has climbed on the arm of the couch and is trying to reach the top of the tree to place the star, his balance precarious, and Niall and Zayn are standing by in case he falls. Well, Zayn is; Niall is on his mobile, probably live-tweeting the entire thing.

Christmas music is playing – Michael Bublé’s album, and they had a proper laugh when they heard his ‘no homo’ version of “Santa Baby” – and the festive cheer in the flat is almost palpable. Niall came down for the weekend, the last one before the end of the semester, and Liam dropped by to study with Louis, but that ended pretty soon when he hit it off immediately with Niall. 

As for Harry, he moved in in mid-November after a month of unsuccessful long-distance relationship. They were both miserable and when his contract ended with Louis’ family, he showed up on Louis’ doorstep with the largest bouquet of flower he’d ever given Louis and a suitcase, eyes wide and pleading as he asked if he could move in because he missed Louis too much. 

The sex had been phenomenal, that night, Louis riding Harry for the first time and discovering a new passion of his.

For the past month, Harry has been working in a bakery close to their flat and watching him over the weeks made Louis feel like he was watching Harry bloom. He loved the job from the very first day and within two weeks, he was talking about opening his own in a couple of years, eyes bright and smile brighter as he talked of the different ways he’d learned to make pastries and bread that day. He is happier than Louis has ever seen him and his mood does wonders to Louis’ own, which is always rather low because of how much he hates law school. Coming home to a boyfriend who smells like fresh bread and a bag of croissants still warm from the oven makes up for it, he supposes. Auditioning for a play has helped a lot, though; even if Louis didn’t get an important part, he still gets to do what he likes most. It brings things into perspective, showing him that school isn’t all there is to his life. He is not his studies.

Louis dips a spoon in the pot, tasting the mix and handing the cinnamon to Harry with a wrinkled nose.

“Liam’s dating Sophia, now. He won’t get in between Zayn and Niall. I think his experience this summer scared him off dicks for the rest of his life. So, physically.”

“I’ve got the paramedics on speed dial,” Harry replies, sprinkling spices in the pot.

“Why? You’re afraid you’ll forget the number?” Louis asks, giggling. 

Harry rolls his eyes. “I won’t even reply to this.” Tasting the eggnog, Harry nods. “Have we got rum?”

“Yup,” Louis replies, hopping off the counter to go to the cabinet where they keep their alcohol. “Fine one, too, Zayn’s dad gave it to us. The bottle is still sealed.” Wandering into the living room for a moment, Louis watches the other three work, grinning. “Nice work, lads, your mums would be proud of you.”

“You could help, this is your flat,” Niall comments as he holds up a box of ornaments for Zayn to hang them.

“I’m helping in the kitchen,” Louis says with a shrug, moving over to the alcohol cabinet. Crouching by it, he takes out the bottle of rum and places it on the table behind him. “You’ll all thank me when we’re drunk, later.”

“No one gets drunk on eggnog, Lou,” Harry says from the kitchen.

“Is that a challenge?”

“It shouldn’t be,” Liam replies. “It really shouldn’t be.”

“I’m up for it,” Niall adds.

“No,” is all Zayn says. “You’re not.”

Laughing, Louis gets back up, picking up the bottle from the table. As he lifts it, he noticed a few envelopes on the table. “Who brought in the mail?”

“I did,” Liam says, looking up from the tangled Christmas lights he was busy frowning at.

“Of course you did, Liam,” Louis replies, shaking his head with a smile. He quickly looks through the envelopes, discarding the bills one by one before he reaches the bottom of the pile and sees one addressed to him.

Bringing the alcohol to Harry, he studies it closer, running his thumb over the handwritten address. It’s his mum’s handwriting. He’s been in contact with his family since he agreed to the deal, but he hasn’t visited them, yet. He’s not welcome in the house, that part was made clear to him. His mother asked to give his stepfather time and Louis has no choice but to agree even if he misses them like crazy. The envelope he has in his hand holds so much promise that it’s got his head reeling.

Opening it with trembling hands, Louis swallows around the lump in his throat when he pulls a Christmas card out. It’s one like they always send to their acquaintances every winter, with a family picture on the cover of all of them wearing ugly Christmas sweaters. This year, the new twins are wearing matching pairs of reindeer antlers and Louis giggles, covering his mouth with his hand.

“What is it?” Harry asks.

“A Christmas card from my family,” Louis replies, working hard to keep his voice steady as he flips open the card. “ _Happy Holidays!_ ” he begins reading out loud. “ _You’re cordially invited to our annual Christmas celebrations, during which we will also be celebrating the birthday of our beloved son. Please RSVP…_ ” Louis trails off reading, his voice catching in his throat.

“Lou…” Harry begins, but Louis shakes his head to shut him up.

“Did I understand this right? Are they… am I…”

“You’re invited to spend Christmas and your birthday with them,” Harry completes, nodding.

“Okay, I wasn’t sure, I was afraid it might have been a hallucination,” Louis replies, his voice thick with emotions. He runs his eyes over the card again, reading the words over and over again until they feel real. “It also says… it says that I am allowed to bring a… a guest. You’re invited.” Louis looks up at Harry, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

It’s Harry’s turn to look in shock and he brings a hand to his mouth, eyes wide and disbelieving. “Am I? But I’m staff!”

“You’re my boyfriend, too. If I’m allowed to be a part of the family, so are you. Will you come?”

“If you want me to.”

“I do, I really, really do.”

Harry nods and then he’s lifting Louis into his arms, hugging him tightly. Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist and clings to him, laughing into his neck as tears roll down his cheeks.

Of all the things Louis expected to happen after he agreed to the conditions, being invited to the biggest family affair of the year with Harry wasn’t one of them. So, to think that it will also double as his birthday feels surreal and a part of him is afraid he’ll wake up to realise it was all a dream.

“If you’re going to shag, please turn up the music, I don’t need to hear it,” Niall comments and Louis flips him off over Harry’s shoulder. He won’t let some Irish bloke ruin his moment.

“I’m so happy right now,” Louis whispers, kissing beneath Harry’s ear. “I feel like my heart could burst.”

“I’m terrified of meeting your family as your boyfriend, but it’ll be fun. I’ll play with the kids.”

Louis lets out a wet laugh. “I’ll meet my new brother and sister, oh my god.”

“They’re adorable, you’ll love them.”

Nodding, Louis tightens his arms around Harry’s neck. “It’s been an exhausting six months. I think I want the next six to be calm. I deserve it.”

“Okay, I’ll wait seven months before I propose, then,” Harry says, laughing.

“Don’t even go there, Styles. Don’t,” Louis warns, grinning. “Don’t you dare.”

“Seven months, to the day.”

“I bloody hate you sometimes,” Louis says, laughing. He squirms out of Harry’s arms and picks up the card once more, looking at it with a bright smile that crinkles his eyes. “I still can’t believe it.”

Harry presses a kiss to his temple before he returns to the eggnog. In the living room, the three others have started singing along to the record, harmonizing surprisingly well. Snowflakes as big as feathers are falling outside, twinkling in the light of the streetlamps, and the flat is warm and cosy, smelling of sugar and spices. Everything is quiet and comforting, like being wrapped in a thick blanket in front of a fire with a warm cup of tea.

Pulling on Harry’s sleeve and leaving him just enough time to take the pot off the stove, Louis drags him along to the living room to give the boys a hand, joining their singing and grinning when Harry does, too, marvelling at the way their voices sound together.

“You know, boys, we should all drop out of school and start a band,” Louis comments.

“Yeah, put us in matching sweaters and we’ll make the ladies swoon,” Harry adds. 

“As long as we don’t dress like Niall,” Zayn says, sticking out his tongue when Niall huffs.

Taking a step back to look at the scene, at Harry and Liam working on the tangled lights, at Niall and Zayn quietly bickering, Louis sighs happily, not quite believing that his life has turned into something this close to perfection.

And to think it all began because he pretended to read a Nancy Drew novel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A parting comment: I wrote this with themes of 'growing up' and 'maturing' in mind, of doing things because they're the reasonable option, not the best, but it ended up being much more about wasted potential, didn't it? I wanted this to be about Louis changing and becoming a better person, but in the end he ended up right where he started, with the addition of a boyfriend. It's almost a study in the permanence of a person's true nature. Funny how things never go as you had planned them.

**Author's Note:**

> Reblog from [here](http://scrunchyharrywrites.tumblr.com/post/105014755874/electing-strange-perfections-by) if you liked it and don't forget to leave comments and kudos! 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr [here](http://scrunchyharry.tumblr.com) and my partner in crime [here](http://babypixielouis.tumblr.com).


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